


A Lady and her Knights

by Impala_Cherry_Trickster



Series: The Queen of Camelot [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Awesome Gwen (Merlin), BAMF Merlin (Merlin), Bathing/Washing, Canon Era, Dragonlord Merlin (Merlin), Everyone Loves Merlin (Merlin), F/F, F/M, Female Merlin (Merlin), Good Morgana (Merlin), Gwaine Being Gwaine (Merlin), Hurt Merlin (Merlin), Merlin & Morgana Friendship (Merlin), Mutual Pining, Oblivious Merlin (Merlin), Protective Arthur, Protective Knights (Merlin), Shy Merlin (Merlin), merlin whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:47:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 27
Words: 55,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26659954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impala_Cherry_Trickster/pseuds/Impala_Cherry_Trickster
Summary: Merlin and the Knights go out on a Hunt, which begins to go badly quite quickly
Relationships: Elyan/Merlin (Merlin), Gwaine/Merlin (Merlin), Gwen/Morgana (Merlin), Lancelot/Merlin (Merlin), Leon/Merlin (Merlin), Merlin (Merlin)/Other(s), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin/Percival (Merlin)
Series: The Queen of Camelot [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2020112
Comments: 344
Kudos: 709





	1. Into the Woods

They all knew it, it just wasn’t discussed. Nobody had openly stated that Merlin was theirs, that they each had an equal claim to her, but the Knights all knew it. Arthur had taken slightly longer than most to get on board, partly because he hadn't realised his attraction to Merlin until Gwaine had bluntly pointed it out.

For somebody so smart, Merlin was quite blind. Blinder than Arthur, clearly, because she still hadn't realised that the Knights viewed her as more than the friend she acted as.

‘I think Morgana should have set them on fire.’ Merlin chirped, snapping Arthur out of the daze of the rhythmic plodding of the horse. They were on a Hunt, or that was the cover the Knights had agreed upon. Despite the crossbows they had brought, they had no intention of actually hunting, it was just what they had told Merlin to draw her away from Camelot.

‘They’re the Council, Merlin.’ Sir Leon pointed out, but he was smiling at her warmly despite his disapproving tone. Arthur watched in horror as the last part of his First Knight’s resolve broke, the moment Merlin flashed her a grin. It was incredible, how one woman, one manservant (as Merlin insisted on being called), could wrap the King and his Knights around her finger.

‘A load of stuck up nobles.’ Gwaine agreed with Merlin, as usual, the two causing chaos wherever they went. Not many of the nobles in Camelot could understand why Arthur allowed Gwaine to be so close to him, and to begin with, Arthur had wondered the same thing. Then he’d noted how Merlin’s eyes sparkled whenever Gwaine was around, and the way the Knight had sworn his loyalty to her, and Arthur realised exactly why Sir Gwaine was here. Keeping Merlin safe was, as always, priority number one.

‘What’s your aversion to nobles, Gwaine?’ Leon chided, a debate that had come up many times. And, as always, Merlin was quicker.

‘Why exactly are we riding out of normal territory?’ Whatever Merlin knew, she kept it a secret, much like she had done with her Magic. That betrayal still stung slightly; it had taken Arthur weeks to speak to her again after she’d admitted to being a sorcerer.

‘Searching for exotic animals.’ Elyan joked, and Merlin’s laugh was gifted across to the group. Like always, it worked to relax his Knights, and Arthur found himself studying his manservant.

Merlin had changed since Arthur came to the throne. Gone was the cropped-hair and hunched back, trying to hide herself and disguise as a boy, as was necessary for her to keep her position. Uther would never have given her the position, had Gaius not assured the King that Merlin was unable to bear children. That conversation had been an awkward one, but luckily, Uther didn’t really care how that had happened.

The neckerchiefs remained, as did the ratty tunics and breeches, but her hair was no longer cropped. Arthur had only seen it down a handful of times, it was almost always tied back in a tight bun that was pinned to her head like she was terrified of the strands falling.

As she shifted in the saddle, Arthur admired her height. She was tall, for a woman, towering over both Morgana and Guinevere easily. Lanky and thin, sharp cheekbones and hidden curves by the binder that he knew she wore underneath. He’d found out from his half-sister, in a very awkward conversation about the fact that Merlin certainly appeared more boy-like than female.

It didn’t change the way he viewed her. Admittedly, it had taken a very long time for him to realise that his attempts at horseplay were actually a method of hiding his affection for her. The Knights were less restrained with their emotions, openly stated that they found Merlin attractive.

Not to her face, though. That was a certain disaster.

‘You don’t need to travel to see an exotic animal. Just go to Arthur’s Chambers after a night’s drink.’ He scowled, ignoring the fact that the five Knights laughed loudly at her words.

‘Careful, Merlin, or you’ll be spending a week in the stocks.’ He threatened, the Witch glancing back over her shoulder and sticking her tongue out.

‘I can’t help that you’re a prat, Sire.’ It was in that insufferable sing-songed tone, which only served to make the Knights laugh harder. Pleased with herself, Merlin turned back with a smug grin that Arthur couldn’t let stand, so he urged his horse forward until he could bring his hand down on the back of Merlin’s mare.

Listening to the shriek as Merlin clung on to the bolting horse was worth it.

**

‘Seconds?’ Gwaine’s eyes were pleading, and how could Merlin resist? She rolled her eyes, ladled another portion of stew into the Knight’s bowl and ignored the way Gwaine thanked her while winking. With her Knights fed, it only left preparing the bedrolls and brushing down the horses, so she went to get started on the first of the two.

Arthur’s was lain out closest to the fire, because he was always an idiot when it came to staying warm. Percival preferred to be close to a tree, so Merlin picked out that spot, and then debated on the others. Logically, Gwaine had to be as far from Arthur as possible. Lancelot could go anywhere, but she always liked his company, so she chose to settle her own close to his. Elyan could be a buffer between Gwaine and Lancelot, which left Leon to slot in close to Arthur.

She evaluated the choice, before heading over to the horses. Seven years since she first started working for Arthur, so she knew each by name, chatted away as she started on Llamrei first. Her own mare waited patiently, named Leaf, at Merlin’s request.

The Knights stayed by the fire, bathed in orange light that made them look like something out of a storybook, and Merlin snuck glances in between the brushes of the horse. It was perfectly reasonable to stare, she figured, considering the fact that they were all eligible, single men. Half of Camelot would sell of everything they had just for a chance to speak to the Knights, yet she had the honour of their friendship.

The thought was a sombre one, Merlin snapping her attention back to the horses. She wondered why they had strayed so far from Camelot, was it because of Morgana’s demands to reverse the man on Magic? Arthur was still hesitant, a lifetime of prejudice warning him that Magic was not to be trusted. He had come so far, yet sometimes she was reminded of the Prince she had first met, the man that she had thought an idiot.

Once the horses were brushed down, she moved to collect some more firewood, before returning to camp. She could clean the bowls in the morning, after a good night’s sleep. One of the many things to hate about Hunting, the fact that the ground was hard and she had to sleep in boots and a binder. The blanket was tucked over her shoulder, and she rolled over to listen to the Knights chatter.

‘Sleepy already?’ Percival was usually quiet, but when he spoke, it was always friendly. She shuffled forward to where he was seated, leaning against him slightly as she propped herself up.

‘A day of dealing with both Gwaine and Arthur?’ That resulted in a wineskin being chucked in her direction, Percival catching it before it could land. Merlin laughed, watched as Lancelot rose from his position.

‘Merlin makes a good point, we should get some sleep.’ It was a rare day that someone agreed with her, but when it happened, it was usually Lancelot. He came across to settle on the bedroll next to hers, Merlin wrapping the blanket over herself and lying down.

She woke a while later, to the sound of twigs breaking. It was a sound that meant little on its own, but had her sitting up slowly as she reached for her Magic to determine whether there was a threat. Merlin looked to the dying embers of the fire, then to where the person on watch should be sitting, only to find the spot empty.

Merlin didn’t even have time to wake Lancelot, before something heavy hit her on the back of the head.

**

Arthur didn’t like his captors. They were far too skilled, had a camp of at least thirty men, all laughing and joking around a hearth. Heavily weaponed, even if he could break free from the bindings that held him down.

One moment, he’d woken to a thudding sound, before he was knocked out. Waking was unpleasant, ropes digging into his skin as he wriggled against the tree. Beside him, his five Knights were in a similar position, stripped of their armour and bound securely.

The gag was uncomfortable, a rag of cloth that tasted of sweat and dirt, but Arthur couldn’t spit it out no matter how hard he tried.

All of this was nothing like the main problem, the fact that Merlin had been carried into one of the tents that they had, out of Arthur’s sight.

‘Should we be honoured, to have Knights of Camelot in our lands?’ A man came across, with dark hair and a grin that matched, hand resting on the pommel of Arthur’s sword.

‘Oh no, don’t try and speak! We have no intention of harming you, you’ll be released in the morning.’ Arthur channelled his inner-Merlin, opted for rolling his eyes at the man, who looked delighted.

‘We only took you because of your friend.’ Merlin. Arthur began to struggle against the ropes again, heard Gwaine’s muffled shouting from beyond the gag. One thing was for sure, if they got out of these restraints, there would be no saving the people that threatened Merlin.

‘I suppose I should be thanking you, Arthur Pendragon. If it wasn’t for your strict hatred on Magic, our people would have gone out of business a long time ago!’ If there was one thing worse than a bandit, it was a bandit that knew about Magic. It could only mean bad things, proved by the band of metal that the man procured from his pocket.

‘Cold iron. Just in case any of your Knights have Magic.’ Logically, that wasn’t the person he was worried about. If Merlin’s Magic was held back…

‘Now, you must be wondering what’s going on.’ The man was interrupted by a boy appearing, no older than twenty years. A stick, skinny and out of place amongst the well-muscled men around him.

‘Father? We’ve got the girls…’

‘Be quiet, Jacob. Go back to the tent and get ready for the Hunt.’ Anger laced the tone, the boy flinching and glancing to Arthur. It didn’t soothe Arthur’s nerves, a hunt? For what?

‘I don’t think I’m ready…’ Whatever he wasn’t ready for, his Father wasn’t happy about it. The bandit levelled a stare so harsh that Arthur felt sorry for the boy, watched him scamper off. When he was gone, the bandit could turn back to Arthur, a grin crossing his face.

‘Tonight, six women will be released from the Camp, and given the chance to flee. Then, we hunt them down.’ Arthur was about to try and ask what that had to do with him, before his gut tightened.

Merlin.

Gwaine was growling again, even Leon looked ready to commit murder. The bandit chuckled, leaning closer and smirking.

‘Just between you and me, my men are quite fond of your girl. She’s got an awful temper.’ Arthur settled for glaring, trying to loosen the ropes around his wrists. The bandit took a step back, clapped his hands together and rubbed them.

‘Whoever gets the woman first can claim her, and consummate the act.’ Arthur was going to kill him. Would rip him apart, if he lay a single hand on Merlin.

**

Merlin didn’t like cold iron. She wondered if Arthur had figured out a plan yet, because she was beginning to panic. Her Magic was gone, locked down deep enough that she couldn’t access it, and that was enough to have her shaking. Fighting hadn't gotten her very far, the men were a lot stronger than her, and she’d been overpowered easily.

Now, she was standing in a tent while three women buzzed around her. They were old, greying hair and wrinkles that she studied while they began to cut off the fabric she was wearing.

‘Let me go, and you’ll never have to worry about being in danger. Arthur, the King, he’ll look after you.’ Pleading did nothing apart from earning her a slap, and Merlin fell silent.

It was only once she was dragged into a second tent that she began to understand what was going to happen.

Five other females, all dressed like Merlin was. A white chemise, reaching their ankles. Loose hair, brushed out so it hung around them. Had this not been a very bad moment to do so, she would have joked about how they were all in their underclothes, which was highly inappropriate. Not that she ever wore a chemise, but the thought was the same. The girls, like her, had a band of cold iron around their ankle. Hands bound by rope at the front, huddled together like they were waiting for… death.

Merlin yelped when someone kicked her in the back of the knee, sending her pitching to the ground. She snarled, flashing an angry glare at the older woman behind her, before looking to her new-found friends.

Once it was just the six of them, Merlin began her attempts to break from the rope.

‘There’s no point, they’ll catch you.’ One of the girls whispered, a pretty blonde who had a small smile on her face. She could be no older than Merlin, which drew the Witch to shuffle closer to her.

‘Shh, you’ll get us all punished!’ Another hissed, while Merlin raised a brow in a move inspired by her Uncle.

‘What is this place?’ She asked, the blonde trembling as she answered.

‘Hell.’

**

A Hunt. It was a Hunt, and Merlin was the prey. She tried not to let her fear show, not when she had none of her usual skills to keep her safe. Without her Magic, she was the same as these girls, helpless and unable to defend herself.

Six of them, twenty-two eligible men. Elma, her friend, had told her that she had been snatched five days ago. That it was a ritual, where they would drink and then use a horn to sound the Hunt, that they would be released into the woods. Her only hope was to run fast, but they weren’t gifted shoes, nor anything more than the thin fabric that was currently wrapped around her.

Combined with the ropes binding her hands… It wasn’t good. Merlin really needed Arthur to hurry up and get them out of here, but the moment she was dragged from the tent, she realised that was not going to happen.

The sun was already setting, painting the sky an evil red as the fire roared, Merlin looking to the King of Camelot and his Knights. They were bound to trees on the edge of the clearing, away from the men that were drinking, flushed from the exertion of trying to escape. Gagged, angry and volatile.

Calling Arthur’s name was an instinct, and for a moment, she worried he wouldn’t recognise her. She had to look very different, with her hair down and nothing more than a chemise to cover her form. Sure enough, he skipped over her for the briefest of seconds, before his eyes came back to meet hers.

The moment she met his stare, she knew that she was screwed. He couldn’t get out, couldn’t save himself, let alone her. Merlin wobbled in her step, rewarded for it by being grabbed by her hair and dragged to where the other women were kneeling.

The dirt was cold under her knees, provided no relief in the panic that built. She could hear her heart thumping, reached for Elma’s hand and was relieved when the girl squeezed.

‘The first of you has till the count of fifty. From there, each has five counts between you.’ Elma called the man Harold, and told her that he was the one to watch out for. According to the other girls, Harold usually killed the women he managed to claim a couple of days after catching them.

‘First, you must drink!’ A cheer echoed through the men, and Merlin risked a glance to the Knights.

They looked as terrified as she felt, could do nothing as a goblet was brought to her lips. She tried to drink it, but her nose was pinched and her head held until she had to gasp down the liquid.

Drugged, she could taste it on her tongue.

A horn sounded, and the first girl was released. She didn’t look very sure of herself, rose to her feet and looked around at the men who were chanting the countdown. By the time she had wobbled to the edge of the trees, the next girl had been released.

Merlin was on the end of the line. She would have twenty-five counts to put distance between her and her captors, and then she had to figure out a way to remove the clamp around her ankle.

She’d come back for Arthur and the Knights, once she had her Magic.

Elma was released, running off in the opposite direction to the other four. Merlin watched her go, let herself be dragged to her feet as the man undid the chain that had been holding her back.

Her first instinct wasn’t to run. She brought her knee up to the man’s crotch, lunged for the knife on his belt, and narrowly avoided the fist that came with it. She couldn’t take on an entire camp by herself, she knew that.

Merlin had just one moment to spare a look for her friends, before she turned tail and ran.

**

Arthur hadn't recognised Merlin. He’d seen six girls, dressed in their underclothes with their hair loose, in an attempt to make them look like they still had their maidenheads. Each was terrified, wide eyes and shaking hands, which he noted a moment before recognising Merlin.

She looked petrified. The hope in her eyes died as she studied them all, bound to trees and unable to come to her aid. Her wrists were bound, a leash keeping her in line, and Arthur grunted in pain as he tried to break free.

He should have been proud of her, stealing the knife, but all he could focus on was the way the other men looked at her. Like a prize, like they could steal, and he hated it. Merlin looked at them, at all of them, and Arthur wanted to assure her it would be fine.

It would have been a lie, and as he watched her bare feet sprint towards the treeline, he knew she’d recognise the deception.


	2. Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flee, or fight?

She’d left Arthur. She’d left the Knights of Camelot, her best friends, the people she held closest. Merlin had fled like a coward, running through the trees at a speed that she’d never imagined she could reach, the scenery blurring. Whether that was from tears or the way her legs were carrying her, she didn’t know. Without her Magic, Merlin didn’t have anything. She couldn’t protect the Knights, and had no choice but to abandon them with the knife clasped in her bound hands.

The white gown whipped around her legs, catching and tearing as the undergrowth tried to snag her, feet breaking on the rough ground. Nothing would make her stop, not when she could hear the horn blaring behind her, could see Arthur’s haunted gaze following her.

A hand clasped around her dress, fisting into the fabric and yanking so hard that she thought the poor person would go flying with her. Instead, Merlin skidded to a halt, spinning with the knife brandished threateningly.

‘Merlin!’ As the daze of the chemise strangling her faded, Merlin recognised Elma. She rocked back, laughed in relief and lowered the knife.

‘Elma.’

‘We have to go, find somewhere to hide…’ Another sound from the horn, distant cheers that had the two of them clutching at each other’s hands, before Merlin’s mind kicked in. The knife slid through the rope easily, freeing Elma’s hands so the girl could do the same to Merlin.

‘You’ve got to help me get this iron off.’ Merlin stated breathlessly, gesturing to her foot and wincing when she saw the blood already covering her foot. Adrenaline was a kicker, she couldn’t even feel the cuts yet.

‘You’ve got Magic?’ Elma then decided she didn’t want the answer, linking their fingers and they were off again, running into the woods. Merlin didn’t know where they were going, only that they needed space between them and the men hunting them down. Never before had she pitied the creatures that Arthur hunted so badly, swore she’d never let them do it again while she lived.

‘I can’t, Merlin, I can’t!’ Merlin prided herself in being physically fit, mostly because she was the manservant to the King of Camelot. Running around was a habit, up and down stairs and around the city, so this wasn’t awful. Sure, she was breathing heavy and the world was blurring, but Merlin hated the alternative even more.

Elma looked worse. Hair sticking to her face, eyes wide and her chemise plastered to her sweaty form.

‘We need to keep going.’ Merlin panted, tugging her, but the woman was stumbling blindly. It was then that she looked down, saw the girl’s feet.

One ankle had been ensnared by thorns, pricking into the flesh and shredding it, a sight so awful Merlin was tempted to gag.

‘They’ll find us anyway, the bands are tracked.’ Elma leant back against a tree trunk, sliding down it and hitting the dirt like the fight had drained out of her. Merlin scanned the clearing, then crouched down to address the wounds.

‘We just have to get it off…’

‘How? Answer me that, Merlin! How?’ Merlin ignored the sob, removed the plant from her ankle. Once that was done, she studied the cuts, then looked to the bright eyes.

‘Elma, if we don’t run, they’ll catch us.’ The shouts were getting louder, and every instinct wanted her to flee. But she couldn’t abandon her friend, especially not when they were the only ones that could support each other.

Sure enough, the girl slowly nodded, offering out her hand.

‘Okay.’

Progress was slow. Elma’s adrenaline was already wearing off, her body slower than Merlin would have liked. Limping was making tracks, ones that Merlin knew could be followed, and she tried to cover them as best as she could.

‘You should leave me.’ It was said in a rush, the girl looking up at her like she already knew how Merlin would react.

‘Don’t say that.’ Merlin snapped, eyes darting around as she tried to protect them.

‘I’m slowing you down. If you go…’ Elma sucked in air, and Merlin could see why.

A man stood in front of them, eyes just as wide as Merlin imagined her own to be. He was young, stick-thin, and evidently surprised to see them.

For a moment, neither party moved. They remained in a stalemate, until the man slowly stepped aside.

‘Run.’ They did just that, Merlin grabbing Elma and yanking her deeper into the trees.

**

Arthur’s wrists were bleeding. He’d almost dislocated his shoulder, and the sweat pouring down his body would be enough to have soaked him through, but Arthur couldn’t stop. He just couldn’t, because he could hear the sound of the horn, and the cheers from the men. The clearing was empty, save for a few older men and a couple of women, heads meekly bowed as they followed their warriors.

His Knights looked sick. Each trying to break free, and Arthur had heard the crack that came when Gwaine actually managed to break something.

When the first Hunter arrived, he was dragging a woman behind him. The once-white gown was now stained red down the front, between the girl’s thighs. If that didn’t make Arthur sick, the thought of Merlin being hunted did.

The girl’s hands were still bound, leaves in her hair and feet tracking blood over the grass. She didn’t even bother to raise her head, light hair hiding her face as she followed the lead that had been connected to a collar around her neck.

If somebody did that to Merlin, Arthur was going to kill everyone in sight.

**

When their luck finally ended, it was one of the hardest decisions Merlin had ever made. It was only one man, who lunged for Elma and knocked her down into the dirt, Merlin screaming as she brought the knife up ready to attack. The man that had pinned her looked up, grinning as he reached for his own knife, and Merlin heard the sound of shouting behind him.

‘Run! Merlin run!’ Elma was thrashing under him, limbs trying to dislodge the man atop of her, but it wasn’t working. The Witch hesitated, staring into those terrified eyes as they pleaded with her.

Merlin ran, just like she had done with the Knights. She ran, and ignored the sound of Elma screaming, and kept running.

This time, it was the tears blurring her view. She didn’t stop, no matter how much her body begged her to, clutching at her chest as it tightened.

Her knees hit the dirt first, body rolling over and skidding to a stop in the leaves as she sobbed, dragging herself up and trying to scramble back up. With the only sound she could hear being her thumping heart, Merlin had no idea how close they were, forced her eyes to go to the cold iron that kept her bound.

The knife in her hand had never felt heavier, and for just a moment, she considered if she could survive severing off her foot. The blade dug into her skin just above the cuff, breaking open the already-torn skin, blood beading up as she did so.

Would she live long enough to get her Magic back?

She’d abandoned Elma, had no idea how to get back to Camelot, and she’d left the King behind. Even if she made it, the bands were tracked, and she’d die of dehydration or infection long before getting to the city.

The part of her that was a physician wanted to collect herbs, to find plants that would help stem off illness. But she couldn’t do that, not when she couldn’t stop her hands from shaking, or get her feet to carry her.

Merlin had never been afraid of the dark until now, when the shadows crept up and hid the approaching danger. The knife wouldn’t stop all the men, would it?

Anger took over, a frustration that bubbled up until she was scratching at the cuff, snarling and tearing at the skin as she tried to break free. It ended with her slumping back down to the floor, looking up at the nearest tree.

With her decision made, Merlin began to climb. Her feet struggled to grip against the bark, nails scraping helplessly as she tried to find purchase.

If Merlin lived to see the sunrise, she’d thank every God she knew.

**

When the fifth girl was dragged in, Arthur had to admit that he was losing hope. His body ached, bled a sticky red that stained the ropes that held him. He’d tried praying, pleading to the gods of the Old Religion to save him, to save Merlin. How long would it be until someone came to find them?

Why had he brought them out here, rather than telling Merlin how he felt? Why had he chickened out, when all the Knights had been ready to admit to their feelings?

The blonde was thrown to the ground next to her new partner, dragged until her head was in his lap. Despite the bad lighting of the fire, Arthur knew what was happening, swallowed down on the bile that burned his windpipe.

‘…should have seen her, the girls were together.’

‘Huh, you almost had the snappy one.’ Another joked, and it took Arthur too long to realised they meant Merlin.

Merlin had been with the girl, which meant they knew where she was.

‘You think they’ll catch her?’

‘Hector’s tracking her band now.’

If the game wasn’t awful before, it got worse. The band, the thing that stripped Merlin of her only defence, was also tracking her.

**

The pain blossomed in her shoulder, Merlin screaming as she toppled from the branch. The fall was brief, the agony that came when she hit the floor knocking the air from her lungs. An arrow was lodged into the flesh, her knife dropped and abandoned in the dirt, and the Witch forced herself to move.

A heavy weight pressed into her back, fingers grabbing her body and wrapping into her hair, yanking her head back while she searched for the knife.

‘Stop fighting.’ Her captor snarled, eyes almost entirely black, and Merlin tried to buck off the weight. A knee pushed between her thighs, dirty fingers closing around her mouth and blocking off her airway.

She was going to die. Alone, in the middle of the woods in nothing more than her underclothes, terrified. Being rolled over caused the wound in her shoulder to flare up, the arrow snapping off and a hand pressing to her throat.

The last person she was ever going to see, a great bulk of a man with one eye, stubble that scraped over her skin as he lowered to lick up the side of her neck.

‘Stay still, sweetheart.’ Screaming was doing nothing but earning a tighter clamp around her neck, the sound of a belt unbuckling causing one last burst of defiance.

Biting into flesh, teeth scraping against something hard as she earned a mouthful of blood, listening to the scream that echoed out. A flapping sound filled the clearing, a flash of fire and the smell of burning skin, her captor shrieking as his body caught alight. Merlin didn’t hesitate, thrust a thumb up into his eye, before he dropped down onto her.

Wiggling out from under his form, she had just enough strength to bring herself up to her knees in time to throw up. Mostly bile, blood staining it as she tried to scrape the taste out of her mouth.

‘Npp.’ A chirping sound drew Merlin’s attention, bright blue eyes and white scales, her tiny Hatchling cocking his head to the side as he looked at her.

‘Aithusa.’ Crying was becoming a habit, throwing herself onto the tiny Dragon and smothering the creature with her affection as she dragged him close. How he was here, Merlin didn’t know, but she wasn’t going to question the sudden help.

‘Gods, Aithusa, oh Gods.’ A burst of warmth from a puff of fire, the poor creature trying to heal her.

‘Save your strength, I’m okay.’ It was a lie, Merlin knew she wasn’t okay. Unravelling her arms, she allowed Aithusa to go back to the dirt, gesturing to the anklet.

‘Can you undo it?’ A sad chirp was the answer she got, and Merlin let out a shaky breath.

It was sucked back in when she noted that there was another person in the clearing, the same boy from earlier. He was staring at her in horror, lips parted and eyes wide, before he slowly held his hands up.

‘I come in peace.’ Merlin heard her own laugh, broken and hollow as she rose to her feet.

‘Peace? Peace?! Your people harbour death, not peace.’ She spat the last word, let it hang in the silence, and wondered why exactly she valued people so much.

**

Time passed. The night dragged on, with the sounds of skin slapping and bitten off moans filling the camp. Arthur had long since fallen silent, watching as the men tied up their women, dragged them around like… property. He could imagine Morgana’s horror, Gwen’s tears as these poor women tried to survive.

Merlin hadn't arrived.

An older woman came to give them water, rose a bottle to his lips and held it steady so he could gulp down the liquid. Every swallow felt like a betrayal to Merlin, every inch of relief that his throat felt was a stab to the gut.

Gwaine refused his portion altogether.

Men returned throughout the night, complaining that they had not managed to track Merlin down. The one called Hector did not come back, nor did the boy that Arthur had made a note of. Some others stayed out, hunting Merlin like Arthur would a deer.

He didn’t think he’d ever be able to track a deer again.

**

‘This is ridiculous.’ Jacob muttered, while Merlin rubbed her bloody hand down the front of her dress.

‘It’s the best plan we’ve got.’ She shot back, a teasing smile flitting across her face despite how tired she was.

He was just a boy. Eighteen summers, with a Father that demanded and ordered like a leader, rather than a family. Merlin had promised that she could get him a position in the royal household, in return for him getting the band off of her ankle.

‘They’ll expect us…’

‘I know. Make it realistic.’ Merlin would not abandon her people. She would not leave her loved ones, no matter what the price.

The leash clipped on to the collar he’d placed around her neck, the one Hector had brought. That was the name of the man she’d killed, and with Aithusa hidden, they could leave.

It was a torturous pace, Merlin dragging her broken feet and hanging her head, staring at her bound wrists. If Jacob betrayed her, Merlin would have no way to defend herself, because the boy was holding the dagger that she had stolen.

Her chemise was ripped, open at the top, low enough to reveal the beginning of a curve. Eventually, the firelight lit the way, and Merlin got her first look at camp.

As they walked in, applause and cheering followed, whistling as she stumbled after her friend. Jacob tugged harshly, causing her to trip and almost fall, but she maintained her upright position. Men came to clap him on the shoulder, to laugh and leer at her, hands that wandered over skin until Jacob shoved at them.

‘My boy, look at you! Finally a man.’ If she continued to look at his feet, she could pretend he was anyone, and not the man that had submitted her to this humiliation.

‘If it’s alright with you, Father, I’d like to take my bride back to the tent.’ Another round of cheering, while Merlin dared to sneak a glance across to her friends.

She got no further than Gwaine, met his horrified gaze and had to abandon looking, for fear of crying.

Jacob dragged her to the tent, and the moment they were in, the leash was abandoned. Hands came to unclip it, while she had to force herself still.

‘We will need to make some sounds, to give the impression…’ She got the idea. Merlin had lived with Arthur and the Knights for long enough to understand the lewd gestures and talk, moved to the edge of the bed that was provided and sat down.

‘For how long?’ In any other circumstances, they might have laughed. Questioning his stamina was not something she meant to do, but with the blood spilling from her wounds, she could do nothing but ask.

‘Long enough for the men to get drunk, so I can sneak to the keys.’ Merlin paused, conceded to the fact, and then tried her best for an appropriate sound.

It ended up as a bitten-off cry, Jacob quickly adding to it with a grunt. It was funny, and Merlin hid her giggle by shying away from the man.

**

Every grunt broke Arthur’s resolve. Merlin had looked… dead. Eyes haunted, dress torn and revealing far too much skin. Bleeding, oh gods she’d been bleeding, and the King couldn’t _breathe_.

When the boy re-emerged, his cheeks were flushed. Each of the men congratulated him, clapping him on the shoulder like the Knights did as they discussed their latest conquest. It made him feel sick, just watching.

It took Arthur far too long to realise that the boy was being sneaky. He passed every drink on to another, moved towards his Father with a purpose that Arthur didn’t understand. It was strange, almost like he had a plan, and Arthur didn’t figure it out until the sky was beginning to turn pink.

Jacob was going for the keys. The ones that sat at his Father’s hip, and Arthur was confused.

The moment he snatched them, it all started to go wrong. His Father swiped at his head, Jacob yelping and holding the keys between his fingers, attempting to move out of the way.

‘The Keys!’ Each man, so happy just moments prior, turned to Jacob with a vengeance that Arthur couldn’t understand.

Not until the boy looked back to his tent, and called out for Merlin.

**

The moment she received her cue, Merlin stumbled blindly from the tent. It didn’t matter that there were a collection of angry men waiting, or that they had weapons, because Jacob hadn't abandoned her. Jacob, who owed her nothing, had completed his end of the bargain. He held the keys between his fingers, threw them in her direction with an accuracy that was useful.

She’d spent her life ducking objects that Arthur hurled, so catching these keys was harder than expected. A moment after her fingers managed to grab them, she was tackled by a man twice her size, and back down to the floor she went.

Jacob was in a similar situation, pinned to the floor with his head being pushed into the dirt, and Merlin laughed. Blood bubbled up in her mouth, a foot stomping down on her wrist with the aim of getting her to release her grip.

Nothing would make her abandon those keys.

Just at the moment her wrist was about to snap, the weight was knocked from her body. A flash of blonde hair, of bright eyes that Merlin recognised as Elma.

‘Hurry!’ She did just that, reached for her ankle and pushed the key into the lock before anyone could stop her.

It came back as quickly as it had been snatched, a rush of sunlight that filtered through her veins just as she’d lost all hope. Her Magic returned to where it belonged, filtered into her blood and tried to heal all that was lost, while Merlin dared to open her eyes.

She met Elma’s gaze, the girl who was struggling to breathe because of the bandit on top, and that was the last thing Merlin focused on.

Because in the next second, her Magic burst before she could stop it.

**

Coming down from a rush of Magic was never easy. It took everything she had left to pull it back, to blink away the daze of power and look around the devastation she had caused. It didn’t take her Physician skills to work out that the men were dead, all of them. The women had survived, the five others that had been with her in the forest, Elma rising up out of the dirt and looking at her in awe.

Jacob pushed off a body, one that Merlin couldn’t even recognise after her Magic had attacked, and stared at her with much the same expression.

She didn’t care. She didn’t care if they thought her a monster, or a saviour. All she cared about was the people behind her, the ones that were still tied to the trees. A last bolt of Magic broke their restraints, and Merlin watched as Gwaine came running.

He scooped her up first, hugged her so tightly that she thought she’d burst. Lancelot was next, kissing her forehead and cradling her. Then Percival, swamping her with the muscled arms, and Elyan’s hand ruffling her hair. Leon kissed her cheek, pulled his shirt from over his head to pull over her form, a thing she was thankful for.

Arthur was last. He looked at her like she was some sort of miracle, reached out hesitantly.

‘Merlin.’

There had been a time in that night, when she thought she’d never hear the word again.

‘Arthur.’

This time, the tears were of joy.


	3. Journeying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So thanks to some lovely comments, this story is going to continue for a bit :)

‘Are we going to talk about this?’ Merlin hated the silence. The Knights walked by her side like they were trying to guide her, while Arthur maintained his position at the front. It was midday, they had left the camp after dropping the girls off at the nearest Village. None of them wanted to stay, not even Elma, for fear of what Merlin had done.

Jacob had taken one look at her, and fled.

‘Talk about what?’ Arthur grunted, not in the mood to discuss the fact that they were days from Camelot with no resources or horses.

‘The fact that I just killed people.’ Merlin knew they were horrified, they could barely look at her. She didn’t look up as she spoke, just looped her fingers together and twiddled her thumbs as she waited for a punishment.

She’d killed them, and she hadn't even meaned to. Her Magic had acted without her permission, and she felt awful for it.

Merlin ran into Arthur’s back, stumbling back when she realised he’d stopped. He spun so quickly she flinched, taking a big step away in case he was worried that she’d hurt him.

‘What?’ Maybe she hadn't made it clear that she felt apologetic, or that she hadn't had control.

‘I didn’t mean to, I just… my Magic sometimes acts without me asking it to, and I know that it’s not an excuse for…’ She trailed off, watching Arthur’s shocked expression twist into anger. The Knights were closing ranks around her, moving closer until she could almost reach out and touch. Not that she ever would, they probably thought her a murderer.

‘Shut up, Merlin.’ Now the Knights were glaring at Arthur, not her, which was even more confusing.

‘Sorry.’ Hanging her head seemed like the best option, but Arthur growled out some words under his breath and stepped closer, his hand coming down on her shoulder.

‘Merlin, I’m not angry about your Magic. I’m not angry that you killed those men. If anything, they died too quickly.’ It was said with hatred, with a vengeance that struck her right to the core, and Merlin wobbled. Had it not been for Arthur’s grip, she’d have tumbled to the ground yet again.

‘I… what?’

‘I’m not mad at you.’ Later, Merlin would blame it on almost dying several times during the last day. Her arms wrapped around his neck before she could stop herself, clinging to the King and sobbing into his neck in the most unflattering manner. For all his faults (and Merlin had to admit, it was a short list), Arthur caught her easily.

Blubbering only took a couple of moments, mostly because Merlin’s Magic was very happy to be back by Arthur’s side. When she stepped back, Arthur’s smile was softer than she’d ever seen.

The moment might have been perfect, had her shoulder not complained about the wound she still didn’t have the energy to heal. Pain flared up, Merlin wincing and her hand going to clap over it.

The thing was, she hadn't exactly told them she’d been shot with an arrow. In fact, apart from her feet, she’d promised there weren’t any injuries on her body. They hadn't pushed her too hard on that fact, let her get dressed into some spare clothes that they stole from a tent, while she stole a set of boots after wrapping her feet.

‘Merls?’ Gwaine caught her as she stumbled, the Witch hissing and then apologising under her breath.

‘I think I need stitches.’

**

She’d never seen six men panic so much. Arthur snapped orders to make a fire, to gather fresh water and boil it to sterilise some scraps of cloth. A dagger had been used to procure some thin wooden splinters, to heat them enough to solidify so they could be used to stitch. It was that, or use the dagger to cauterise the wound.

‘Can you undress enough for us to reach the wound?’ Lancelot politely asked, kneeling in front of her while she sat down on the log. Merlin nodded, reached for the hem of Leon’s shirt, pulling it over her head and trying not to cry out at the pain. Underneath, she was wearing the remains of her chemise, wrapped around her chest like a binder would.

She’d been unable to find hers in the ruins of the camp, so this had to do. It left her shoulder open enough for help, Lancelot’s eyes going wide when he saw the wound.

‘Is that an arrow?’ Oh, right, she’d forgotten about the piece of wood permanently embedded in the skin. Sometimes, her Magic made her feel invincible. She could almost forget that she was in pain, plus there was very little blood coming from the wound.

‘What?!’ Sir Leon sounded very concerned, came running across and abandoned the waterskin, halting when he saw her shoulder.

‘Merlin!’ Elyan was now shouting at her as well, which drew the attention of Gwaine and Percival. It made something in her stomach burn fiercely, a warmth that spread up to her heart as Percival took her hand, while Elyan stroked her free shoulder.

‘Why are you all seducing my… what in god’s name happened to you?!’ Merlin turned to Arthur in confusion, about to ask what he meant by seducing, before realising all eyes were on her shoulder.

‘What’s the issue? It’s just a little piece of wood.’ As she spoke, she reached for the bolt, biting down on her tongue as she dug into the wound slightly.

Gaius had told her on multiple occasions that her pain tolerance was freaky. She usually ignored him, blamed it on her Magic and knowing she could heal most wounds that became life-threatening.

‘Merlin!’ Six men all saying her name at the same time, with varying tones of anguish and terror. She offered out the piece of wood, her head feeling slightly woozy as her magic tried to take up the slack.

‘S’okay, magic’s got it.’ Leaning back to rest against Elyan was the perfect idea, while Gwaine started arguing with Arthur over whether or not to use the dagger. Leon was rubbing soothing circles onto her thigh, his thumb hot despite the layer of fabric, and Merlin wondered if she’d ever noticed such a thing before.

‘Merlin, we’re going to cauterise the wound.’ That sounded painful, but she knew she had to agree with them, nodding vaguely.

‘Need someone to hold you?’ She reached for Leon’s hand, surprised when the Knight willingly gave it up.

She was bleeding all down her bindings, making them sticky and red. Not that any of the men seemed to mind, holding down her limbs while Arthur approached with the dagger. His hand was shaking ever so slightly, and had she not been holding Leon’s hand, she might have tried to reassure.

Compared to the other pain she’d faced, this wasn’t awful. Sure, her body tensed up at the urge to flee, and the lightning-pain raced down her spine as she split her cheek from biting so hard. But still, it wasn’t bad enough to pass out.

She must have gone slightly limp, because Percival was lifting her up like she was weightless, carrying her across to the camp. It was rather nice to be carried, and she would have told the Knight that, had she had the ability to form words.

‘We need to get fresh clothing, bandages and water.’ Merlin tried to rise her head, found most of the Knights stuck staring at the bruising on her torso. She figured her neck had to have a handprint around it, or at the top of the bindings.

‘Any chance of bruising to your ribs?’ Percival made a good physician, Merlin mused. She would have to tell him that later, when she had better control of her brain. For now, she opted for raising a shaky hand to the top of her bindings, prodding down and then wincing when she hit a sensitive spot.

‘Why didn’t you tell us?’ Lancelot questioned, coming to her side.

‘Thought you w’mad at my magic.’ Merlin answered, resting her head on Lancelot’s thigh while Percival’s hands went to her stomach.

It was instinct to tense up, but she felt bad when she saw how quickly the Knight retreated.

‘Sorry, sorry, s’okay. Go ahead.’ He undid the very bottom bindings, moving it up over her skin. Lancelot was offering out the waterskin, which Merlin accepted hungrily, gulping down the liquid in an attempt to soothe her throat.

‘Is she okay?’ Elyan asked, Merlin rolling her eyes.

‘You can talk to me, prat.’

‘I thought that name was reserved for Princess.’ Gwaine joked, appearing with new bandages. As she tried to rise up, it quickly became clear that there was no way she was going to manage by herself.

An awkward moment began, where they all knew Merlin needed help, but none were sure on how to do so.

On Hunts, she was very clear to keep herself like a boy. To act as one, to think like one, and never to put the Knights into a situation where they felt awkward. This was different, because she really needed to take off the bloody bindings, and she couldn’t do it alone.

‘Can… can I have a hand?’ She felt bad, rubbed at the back of her neck and tried not to blush too darkly.

‘Any preference on who?’ Lancelot smoothly interrupted her worries, and Merlin shook her head. It hardly mattered, she felt awkward about all of them, cared for them all the same. It clearly wasn’t going to be Arthur, because he was the King. Elyan was stoking the fire, so it probably wouldn’t be him.

‘I know the way to the stream, if you’d like to wash first?’ Sir Leon’s cheeks were the colour of his hair in the sunlight, which made Merlin smile. Clearly, she wasn’t the only one feeling like they should get this over with.

‘That would be great, thank you.’ Percival helped her to her feet, Leon coming across to wrap an arm around her waist.

The walk to the stream wasn’t too long, and once they got there, Leon put down the fresh clothing and bandages. His sword was placed down onto a stone, before he came back to her side.

‘How would you like to do this?’ Ever the gentleman, and Merlin looked around.

‘If I could take off the breeches, then ask for your assistance in undoing the bindings?’ Leon paused, studying her for a moment, before a smile crossed his face.

‘If you’re worried, I can keep my eyes firmly up.’ He even added a wiggle of his eyebrows, a move that was so un-Leon like that Merlin had to laugh. A pleased expression took over, the First Knight allowing her to try and undo the breeches first.

Her legs looked worse than she remembered. The bruises had gone purple, and there were nail-marks that ran from just below her smallclothes to mid-thigh. It took her a moment to remember what exactly had happened when she killed the first man, Hector, as she’d been told.

Before she knew it, she was crying again, but this time it was silent. Her fingers shook as she tried to push the fabric down further, eventually getting frustrated and trying to stand on one leg to kick the other out.

As she tumbled, which wasn’t surprising considering her awful sense of balance, Leon rushed forward. He was nothing but proper, stabilised her before stepping back, although he lingered when he saw her face.

‘Merlin?’

‘I killed him. The man that came after me, I didn’t know how to escape, and he was holding me down and…’ Leon’s face grew stony, an anger that just made her tears become noisy. She wasn’t a pretty crier like Gwen or Morgana, her tears fell heavy and her voice choked up, nose already beginning to run.

Leon’s hug was gentle, tucking her head under his chin despite how tall she was, running his fingers through her hair while the other stayed on her mid-back, pressing her close. He smelt of sweat and dirt, of lingering leather oil and a faint trace of lavender. She stayed close to him, let herself calm down before pulling back.

‘Sorry, I really have to stop…’

‘It’s okay, Merlin. We… we want you to tell us, when you’re ready, what happened. But for now…’ She nodded, hesitantly turned around and moved her hair to the side enough to let him access the bindings. Leon’s fingers moved deftly, undoing the tattered chemise and letting it fall. It was cold, and no amount of crossing her arms over her chest could warm her up.

‘Thanks.’ She murmured, before tracking over to the stream. A brief surge of Magic was enough to warm the water enough for her to settle in it, beginning to wash the dirt and grime.

She took stock of her injuries, from the bruising over her torso to the marks left by Hector. There was swelling over one wrist, and the ankle that had hosted the iron cuff was bleeding. Scratch marks around it, along with the knife wound from where she’d almost cut her foot off. Her feet were a mess, washing them revealed the extent of injuries that her Magic had attempted to heal. The wound on her shoulder wasn’t too bad, she could roll the muscle and it didn’t do more than ache.

Washing the blood away, she dared to bend low enough to wash her hair.

She remembered the way he’d grabbed it, wrapped his fingers into it and yanked her about like she was a doll. It made her shudder, tugging leaves and dirt from it. A little Magic to create a soap she could use to wash it, before she turned her Magic to the stream.

Controlling water was harder, shaping globules to lift them and release over her head. It was rather fun, she hadn't done it in a while, and she couldn’t help but laugh.

‘Merlin?’ Leon hadn't turned, but he did look tense.

‘I… you can turn.’ She made sure to keep her back facing him, hiding anything inappropriate but allowing him to see the water she’d shaped.

‘Oh, wow.’ The second word was dragged, and Merlin watched in amusement as Leon stepped closer unconsciously. He’d grown up in Camelot, in the height of the purge, and so Magic wasn’t something he used freely.

‘My magic isn’t just dangerous, I swear…’ The Knight quickly shook his head, a smile lighting up his features.

‘I know that, it’s just thrilling to see you use it more.’ The feeling in her stomach, the one that bubbled warmth up in an odd way, returned at his words. She ducked her head, went back to washing and tried to ignore the way her heart was racing.

Whatever was happening, she just needed to forget it. This trip had been nothing but bad luck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to comment with anything you want to see :)


	4. Progress?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin's not sure how she fits in, but showing them that her Magic can be used for good seems to be a good method

By the time she managed to get back to the fire, Merlin was a mess. Not only had she been dressed by Leon, but the Knight had taken her hand to guide her back to the camp, which left her a stuttering pile of confusion. She’d never been shy around others, especially not the Knights, but she’d also never been with them as a female. Long hair, a tunic that was slightly tighter around her chest than she’d have liked, and an experience she was trying to forget.

‘We haven’t managed to find any food yet.’ Lancelot informed them as they walked towards the clearing, Merlin studying the fire. It flickered upward, reds and oranges that she observed with a growing hatred.

‘We could go hunting.’ Elyan spoke, and Merlin halted. She didn’t even know why, just that the words made something in her stomach drop. The fire suddenly seemed like a good way to escape, the world around her spinning quicker and quicker while the shirt began to shrink, tightening around her skin.

People were beginning to look at her, probably because she was trying to get away from Elyan. There wasn’t a reason to do so, other than the fact he’d just suggested hunting.

Hunting. Animals, or her?

Suddenly, it was like she’d never escaped. The racing heartbeat, the fact that her legs were burning with the strain of running. Bound hands, the dagger clasped between sweaty hands and Elma… Gods, she’d left Elma in the dirt, like it didn’t matter that they had escaped together.

‘…erlin, Merlin!’ Stunningly bright eyes, like the sky itself, and Merlin froze as hands came to hold her thighs, stopping her from moving back.

Two eyes, not one. Bright blue, not dark. A worried expression, nothing like the man that had come after her, and Merlin forced her Magic to back down. Her reflection proved her eyes were golden, that her Magic was ready to defend herself, but the Knight wasn’t worried.

Lancelot, the first of them to know about her Magic, holding her steady and waiting for her to close the distance.

She did, barrelling into him and sending them both back to the dirt, tucking her limbs around him with ease. Lancelot managed to recover his stability, scooping her up into his lap and holding her there. Gentle, comforting and unterrified of the Magic that still thrummed under her skin.

Arthur was speaking again, making it clear to his Knights that they didn’t discuss “that” word, the one that had hurt Merlin in the first place. She felt awful, making them tread on eggshells around her because she was being temperamental. They’d all been through so much, and she knew they didn’t act like she was now.

Focus came next, concentrating on the earth around her and trying to use her Magic for good. It took effort, fingers digging into the dirt and pumping her energy into it, hearing Lancelot whisper her name carefully.

‘Merlin… what are you…?’ She gasped, her Magic bursting out as she managed to complete the spell.

When she opened her eyes, the ground was covered in plates of food. Different meats, pastries and fruits, sugared and sliced. Vegetables that she longed for, cooked fishes that made her mouth water. Merlin had never tried to summon so much food at once, she always felt slightly guilty over it, but she had to feed the Knights.

‘Holy mother…’

‘Bloody hell.’

‘Apple pie!’ Gwaine had no reservations about leaping for the apple pie, making Merlin chuckle slightly. Lancelot let her uncurl from his lap, snatching a plate of food before returning to his grip.

For now, she could pretend that everything was okay.

**

Percival let her settle down by his side, moving closer as the chill of the night crept in. The others had done the same, lying down on the uncomfortable ground while Leon took first watch. Not that they had many weapons, or their armour, or the horses. Merlin pondered over all of this, shuddering and wrapping the blanket tighter.

‘Cold?’ Percival mumbled, and Merlin rolled to face him. He was propped up on his elbow, looking at her with an unreadable expression. The same one they all adopted when talking to her, like she was a fragile piece of glass, ready to shatter.

‘Freezing.’ She admitted, then tucked up tighter. The Knight paused, before a shy smile took over his face. It made him look rather handsome, a thought Merlin dismissed quickly.

‘Would you like to share?’ He gestured to his blanket invitingly, waiting for her response. It didn’t take her long to make the decision, shuffling across and trying to leave a slight gap between them. It didn’t work very well, mostly because Percival was such a large man compared to her tiny frame.

Sleeping was a lot easier than she thought, probably due to the complete exhaustion.

Dreams, however, were a different story. Dark forests and thumping sounds, screams that echoed out louder and louder, while Merlin tried to escape. The dagger that she’d carried, the one that was supposed to protect her and Elma, was the thing that changed. It grew longer, the hilt becoming embroided and marks appearing along the blade.

Excalibur.

Merlin had always been linked to the sword, considering she’d been the one to enchant the weapon, and it was that thought that woke her.

Arthur was on duty, when she sat bolt upright. Her movement made Percival stir, the arm that had been wrapped around her waist tightening. The hold was comforting, rather than scary, but Merlin still slipped out from under it to move across towards the King.

‘You should be sleeping.’

‘I thought I’d keep you company.’ Merlin admitted, taking a seat by Arthur’s side. The King looked at her for a moment, before he turned away.

‘Are you mad at me?’ She asked, feeling like she already knew the answer. Arthur jerked his head back, before his mouth tightened into a firm line.

‘Merlin…’

‘Because if you are, I’m sorry. I want to make it up to you, but…’

‘Did he rape you?’ Merlin must have made a sound, some strangled-out yelp at Arthur’s question. The King didn’t look at her, stared at the ground while his fingers curled into fists.

‘No. I… the man in the forest, he…’ A yawn interrupted the conversation, Gwaine sitting up and running a hand through his hair.

‘Can’t sleep?’ Merlin questioned, more than happy to end the conversation with Arthur. Gwaine grinned lazily, then wiggled his eyebrows.

‘Might be better if I had a pillow like Percy.’ She snorted, glad that Gwaine was still treating her the same, even if Arthur was acting strange.

‘I do have good news on the pillow front.’ Merlin provided, turning back to the King.

‘I can track your sword.’

‘Now doesn’t that sound like a euphemism.’

**

‘Not that I’m doubting you, mate, but what if it goes bang?’ Gwaine’s cheerful question earned him a slap on the shoulder from Elyan, although they all looked tempted to hit him. Merlin snorted, pushed aside her hair and yet again cursed the fact she’d lost her neckerchiefs. They were always useful to tie her hair back if she forgot to pin it.

‘My Magic isn’t usually like that, it was only because it had been cut off.’ She forgot that keeping her Magic from them, refusing to show them spells prior to this, probably hadn't helped the terror they must have felt when they saw her destroy the camp. Gwaine looked thoughtful, taking a step closer.

‘How did it feel? To have it taken, I mean.’ That was bordering on memories she didn’t want to think about, but it wasn’t specific enough to do anything more than make a shiver run down her spine.

Merlin paused, trying to think of an accurate explanation, before she turned to him.

‘Imagine being at a tournament, ready to fight for Camelot. You’re in the ring, ready to face an opponent, but you’ve not got your armour. Or your sword. You still have to fight, but you’re…’

‘Empty.’ Gwaine provided, while Merlin shrugged.

‘Empty works.’ She turned back to the trees, rolling her shoulders back and ignoring the tinge of pain that came with it.

‘Have you ever lost it before?’ Merlin shuddered at the very thought, shaking her head firmly.

‘No. I’ve always had my Magic, since the moment I was born. Actually, Mum says I could make objects float before I was born.’ Gwaine’s mouth opened, then shut quickly. The Witch stretched out one hand, aiming it towards the ground and tugging on her connection to the earth.

‘So you can find the sword?’ Elyan came to her other side, while Merlin let her eyes shut.

‘Excalibur was forged in Dragon’s breath, so she calls to me.’ It was only after she’d spoken the words that she remembered that her Dragonlord heritage hadn't been revealed yet. Nor had she told Arthur that Aithusa had helped save her.

Luckily, anything they had been about to say was cut off by the wind picking up, leaves rustling as Merlin tried to track her. It was harder than she’d expected, a headache forming while she pushed harder, wobbling under the strain.

‘Merlin…’

‘Just a minute more.’ She argued, keeping her eyes screwed shut. She heard the earth rumble, the ground shaking under her feet before it clicked.

Excalibur, clear in her mind, easy to see. When Merlin opened her eyes, the path was lit up with a golden trail, one that weaved off into the trees.

‘Got it.’ She said smugly, not missing the look of awe that came from the others.

Maybe she wasn’t so helpless after all.

**

The argument stretched, and Merlin began to wonder if this was a sign. Arthur was trying to bargain for Excalibur, their weapons, armour and horses, but the bandit/trading group seemed very unwilling to let them go. Even the promise of further riches, from the King of Camelot himself, had them laughing.

Merlin probably should have predicted that someone would have stumbled across their items, and then stolen them. She also should have predicted that convincing someone that Arthur was indeed the King of Camelot while he was standing in a ratty shirt and breeches was almost impossible.

Gwaine had joined the argument, threatening to bash their heads together if they didn’t hand back their items, and Percival was in the background flexing his muscles. Idiots, the lot of them, all far more likely to get killed for annoying the bandits than have their items returned.

Lancelot looked across to her with his best pleading expression, so she sighed, pushing past Gwaine and to Arthur’s side, where she belonged.

Holding out her hand, she summoned a flame to it, bright blue and flickering dangerously as she took a step towards the man.

‘He asked politely, but I’m not asking. Give us back our items, or I’ll make you give them back.’ A mixture of emotions crossed the man’s face, disbelief, anger, a slight thread of arousal that she found amusing.

Somewhere in her stomach, the fear of being in front of other people, for stepping out of the shadows, began to creep up. Just a niggling sensation to begin, but it quickly began to grow, so she decided to speed things up by stretching out her fingers, guiding Excalibur to her hand.

The sword almost sliced the leader in half as it came to her grip, glowing golden when it finally connected to her palm. Perfect, just as Merlin expected, with the energy that came flooding through her and battered away the fear.

‘Our items?’ Merlin politely requested, raising the sword slightly and watching as the man gulped.

‘Of course, my Lady.’ He bowed hurriedly, before turning to snap orders to those in the Camp. Merlin grinned, dampened the sword’s Magic and handed it back towards Arthur, halting when she saw his expression.

Well-guarded, as usual, but with the slightest hint of amusement as his lip curled up at the edge.

‘What?’ She asked, only for Gwaine to ruffle her hair.

‘Can you hold a sword to me? That was hot.’


	5. Getting worse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin tries to be normal, but it goes badly.

The issue was quite clear to her, from the moment they stepped into the only room available at the local Inn. It had been hard enough to convince herself to move into a populated area, with the urge to flee increasing for every step she took into the town. Most of the Villagers watched them curiously, eyed up Arthur’s armour and wondered who exactly he was, if he could possibly be the King of Camelot. As much as they tried to remain undetected, it was hard to do that when six of them were dressed as Knights.

The Inn had one large room, with three reasonable sized beds. They didn’t look overly comfy, itchy straw mattresses that Merlin had no doubt would creak the moment they tried to put any weight on them, but it was better than nothing.

Seven of them, three beds.

Naturally, Merlin unpinned her cloak and placed it on the floor, ready to kip by the fireside for the night.

‘Take my spot.’ Sir Leon offered immediately, moving past her, while Merlin blinked owlishly.

‘Or mine.’

‘I’m quite happy with the floor.’

‘We could just share.’ Merlin cut in, before Lancelot or Gwaine could also offer up their space. The Knights froze, while Merlin shrugged.

‘Logically, it’d work best if you pair Percival with the smallest of you. Small as in height, rather than muscles, considering you’re all built like…’ She trailed off, getting momentarily distracted by thoughts of the well-muscled men in the room.

‘Percival and Elyan in one bed, Leon and Arthur, then I could share with you two? If you don’t mind.’ She quickly added on the last bit, glancing to Gwaine and Lancelot. Technically, they had both shared a bed with her before, although never at the same time. That thought led somewhere inappropriate, so she shut it down with nothing more than a quick clearing of her throat.

‘Sounds good, Merls.’ Realising she was still studying them, Merlin turned away and headed back towards the door.

‘I’ll find us some food.’

With any luck, by the time she returned, they would have forgotten how she commented on their stature.

**

The nerves didn’t fade as she moved towards the Tavern-side of the Inn. People brushed past her, nothing more than a fleeting touch, but it still had her jumping at every corner. By the time she reached the kitchens, her palms were clammy to the touch, sweat beading at the back of her neck.

‘Excuse me, Ma’am, I was…’ Merlin was fully prepared to try and charm the woman that owned the Tavern into finding them some food, perhaps some drinks for the night, with an offer of coin. She’d done it before, and although most women naturally seemed to dislike her when they saw her company, she felt safer in their presence at the moment.

So, when the person standing behind the table turned, Merlin’s heartrate jumped right back up. The man straightened, a dazzling smile taking over as he offered out his hand.

‘Not quite ma’am, but I’ll take it.’ The hand was still there, waiting for Merlin to accept it, but her Magic was begging her not to.

She ignored it, forced her brain to co-operate and wrap her fingers around the warm skin.

‘Sorry, it’s usually… I’m Merlin.’ The smile only grew, and while the old-Merlin might have felt happy, this new-Merlin hated it. It made her skin crawl, just watching him eye her up, even though she should have expected such a thing.

‘Harry. It’s nice to meet you, Merlin. What can I do for you?’ This was a perfectly ordinary conversation, she had to remind herself of that. This man was doing nothing wrong, yet her body was tensing up in preparation of fleeing, and her Magic was fully ready to attack.

‘I was wondering if you’d have seven portions of food, and drink, for the evening? My… masters are quite hungry.’ Another thing she had to be careful with, was how she addressed the Knights. She’d long ago learned that not many people were fond of her when she called them friends, and it often ended up with her stew tasting an awful lot like it had been regurgitated.

‘Those Knights I saw earlier?’ He asked, turning to one of the barrels like it wasn’t an interesting conversation, but she didn’t miss the look of hope.

‘Yes.’

‘We’ve got some meats and fine cheese, along with fruits and wine.’ Arthur had already spent most of their coin on the room, considering Merlin had convinced him to give some to the bandits that stole from them. The limited coin would make the Knights’ portions smaller than usual, which in turn would make them cranky.

‘Ah, we’re on a limited budget, so some stew would be…’

‘How about a drink?’ He cut in, and seeing her confusion, continued, ‘There’s a festival in the lower town, with music and dancing, and the finest ales from this Kingdom. I’d be honoured if you’d accompany me, and in return, I’ll think nothing of the food.’

The thing was, it was a brilliant deal. Those foods were expensive, and for nothing more than a drink? But she didn’t like it, not one bit, and she was struggling to convince herself it was a good idea. Usually, when they went out to Taverns, she’d leave the Knights for the evening to return to their rooms. It was just because of the fact she didn’t need to see them flirting with the women in the bar, or listen to the lewd talk that followed when alcohol loosened their tongues.

What was wrong with going out for the evening? Merlin never had the chance back in Camelot, and she was almost twenty-four. Ridiculous, she should be living, not hiding away because of one thing that happened. If Merlin could face down Griffins, Dragons and rogue High Priestesses, then she could face down an evening out with a handsome-looking man.

‘I’d like that.’ She finally agreed, smiling shyly at his enthusiasm.

‘Great! My sister Martha is coming with us, would you like to borrow one of her dresses?’ Right, Merlin was still dressed in breeches and a ratty shirt, along with her typical neckerchief. The Witch would have declined, but then a bubbly young woman was rounding the corner, and Harry beckoned her closer.

‘Martha, meet Merlin, my lovely company for the evening.’

See, it wasn’t so hard to make friends.

**

‘You’re doing what?’ Arthur looked blank, eyes wide and darting between the food, and Merlin. She was fully aware how stupid she had to look, dressed in dark blue and feeling like a child playing dress-up. It was Martha’s dress, and despite Merlin protesting, she’d convinced her to put it on. It wasn’t anything special, worn fabric that was tightened around the middle, and reached just below the top of her boots.

‘Going to a festival. You said we didn’t have a lot of coin, and Harry offered… well, I just thought you’d enjoy your evening better if I wasn’t there.’ Merlin didn’t add that they hadn't joked or laughed since “the incident”, nor had anybody tried to bring it up apart from Arthur.

‘You could have stayed.’ Arthur bluntly remarked, looking down to the meats on the table. Even now, he wouldn’t look her in the eye for an extended period of time, proof enough that she’d successfully severed the tie between them.

She was sure that when she got back to Camelot, a long crying session was in order.

‘You won’t even look me in the eye, Arthur.’ It was sassy, even for her; a snappy retort that had most of the Knights looking startled. Maybe it was the tone, disgruntled bordering on angry, or maybe it was the fact she softened her expression immediately.

‘Have fun. I’ll see you later.’ And with that, Merlin turned and headed back in the direction of Martha and Harry.

**

Despite her best efforts, the evening wasn’t going to plan. Merlin tried to lighten herself up, to go back to her usual playful self, but something kept catching her at the last moment. Every time she took a sip of the drink that Harry had gotten her, or someone asked her to dance, it felt like her body was alight with panic. The dress was too tight, it itched on her skin and sat heavy on her frame, like she was being swamped by the clothing.

The music picked up, drowning out the heartbeat that kept clambering around inside her mind, yet it didn’t stop her focus from being on herself. Sweat that made her skin shine, feet that trembled in her boots, and a burning desire to run.

Would anyone stop her, if she ran and didn’t look back? Like she had done back in the forest, sprinting off and abandoning all those she cared for; would that be so bad?

It hadn't worked, she reminded herself, took a breath and finally said yes to a dance.

There were people everywhere, crowding the inner market like flies drawn out when the sun shone. Gathered in mass, thickening as more poured into the area, and Merlin felt like she was fighting for the air that was left. Harry continued to offer out more ale, while Merlin scanned the crowd for Martha, the sister she had presumed would not leave them.

She should have expected that something would go wrong. After all, Merlin had brought nothing but bad luck to her friends, had cast them away from her because of what she’d done in that woods. She’d made them fearful, both of her and for her, and that was never a good thing.

So, when Harry’s hand reached to brush aside a strand of hair she hadn't pinned back well enough, her Magic sparked up in one last bout of defiance. It was nothing more than a spark, a prick that had his hand recoiling, eyes widening as they reflected the gold of hers.

In the next moment, they were no longer in the middle of the square, dancing with the other couples. She was tripping down an alley, a hand gripped tight around her wrist, dragging her away from the sound.

The blow came so fast, that not even her Magic predicted it. A hand connected with the side of her face, enough force to have tears prickling in her eyes, and her knees buckling. The floor that she’d expected to hit never came, for she was held by her throat, just like she had been only two nights before.

‘Gods, I thought it was too good to be true. A sorcerer.’ Snarled out, hissed in a dangerous manner, and Merlin went to fight back.

But if he hated her kind, did others? Would this town find out she had Magic, and run her out with pitchforks and fire? Or worse, would they demand Arthur stick to the law he hadn't yet repealed? Burned at the stake, and all for what? She’d hurt Harry first, without a just cause to do so.

The one thing Merlin relied upon, the one thing that hadn't been there on the night she lost everything, went cold. No bubble of Magic, no attempt to save her, even as the man pinning her down smirked.

‘You’re still a pretty thing, though.’ It wasn’t just the night-sky that was dark anymore, Merlin could barely see. Her head spun, a fuzzy ringing taking over while her skirts were lifted, bunched up around her waist like a harlot.

What was Merlin without Magic? If the last three days were anything to go by, she was nothing more than a man’s property.

**

‘Love? That’s it, just focus on me.’ Merlin wondered why there was an old woman standing over her, a worried crease on her forehead, and eyes that were filled with sympathy.

‘W…w’am I?’ She rasped out, struggling to suck air in enough to make sense of why she was on the floor. There was blood, she could taste it in her mouth, rose shaky fingers to dab at her split lip.

‘There we go, do you think you can stand?’ Arms hoisted her up before she could answer that question, and Merlin was thankful for it. The moment she rose, the blood rushed from her head, and she would have gone back down had the lady not supported her.

‘Come along, let’s get you some broth.’ Merlin hobbled alongside the woman, leaning heavily on her, only daring to look back just before they slipped into a house opposite.

Blood. Blood, and a human-shaped mark in the dirt.

It was only once she was half-way through the broth that she dared look at her dress. Torn at the top, exposing the beginnings of the curves she’d kept hidden for so long. Some of the bruising was fresh, overlying the yellows and faded greens that told the story of the other night.

‘Is there anyone I can get for you, my dear?’ The question came just as Merlin looked at her skirts, exhaling like it might be her last breath.

Her Magic stayed quiet, refusing to provide any insight.

‘I… the Inn.’ But who could she ask for? Arthur would burn the Village down, or worse, abandon Merlin. Gwaine would act out of anger, and Sir Leon would go back to acting like a Knight, rather than her friend. Elyan would tell Guinevere, and Percival… she did pause on him, before concluding there was really only one of the Knights that she definitely knew wouldn’t be angry at her.

‘Lancelot. Sir Lancelot.’ The woman paused, before turning to a second woman in the room. She was young, probably just turned twenty, a bright smile that Merlin presumed was supposed to be reassuring.

‘Head straight to the Inn, and fetch Sir Lancelot. Only Sir Lancelot.’ Merlin looked at the blood staining her dress, decided that at the first opportunity she got, she was going to turn back into what Uther had made her. Nothing more than a shell, a boy that was made to serve Arthur.

‘Wait, he won’t trust you if… tell him Griffin. He’ll know what it means.’


	6. Sir Lancelot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Knight to the rescue

‘I’m looking for Sir Lancelot.’ He’d never risen quicker, shoving back the bench he’d been sitting on to stare at the young woman. Unfortunately, the other Knights rose at the calling of his name, and the girl looked slightly frightened by the gesture. Her eyes darted over them, focusing on the swords that hung by their sides, a normal reaction.

‘Might I ask why, my Lady?’ Lancelot stepped clear of the others, trying his best for a soothing smile. If he tried such a thing with Merlin, she’d usually hit his arm in annoyance, but it seemed to work for anyone else. Now was no different, the Lady blushing slightly as her head ducked.

‘It’s your Lady, Sir Knight. Merlin.’ One word, and the Knights of Camelot were ready to attack. Hands to weapons, muscles tense, and the woman taking a clear step back.

‘What of her?’ Lancelot had to admit, his tone had gone from friendly to urgent, a tone of anguish at the thought of his… friend.

‘We… My Mother found her, she’s been injured. She asked for you.’ Logically, Lancelot should not be proud of such a thing. It was hardly a surprise that Merlin picked him, it meant that it was either something to do with Magic, or something that would anger Gwaine and Arthur. The Knight glanced to his friends, to his King, silently trying to assess the situation they had found themselves in.

If Merlin was hurt, he needed to be by her side.

‘How do we know…’ Arthur began, but the woman cut him off.

‘Griffin. She said to tell you Griffin.’ Since the event that secured him Arthur’s trust, that made his fame, the word had been a code between the two of them. It was for unexplainable situations, when Merlin needed comfort but wasn’t sure how to ask for it.

‘I’ll bring her back.’ Lancelot promised, not sparing another moment before following the woman out of the Inn.

**

Lancelot didn’t ask her what happened.

Merlin wasn’t surprised, or maybe she was, it was slightly difficult to tell how she felt anymore. Part of her wanted to explain this hadn't been her fault, that she’d thought he was a nice person, but her worries drowned out the idea. After all, she hadn't used her Magic, nor had she been able to escape from her own mind.

He took one look at her and shed his cape, wrapped it around her shoulders and assessed her injuries. A thumb brushed over her split lip, a hand tracing her neck as the two women watched on from the side lines.

‘She’ll need rest.’ The older lady offered, to which Lancelot hummed in acknowledgement. Merlin flinched when his hands finally came to rest on her lap, hovering over the stained gown with a look that she couldn’t decipher.

‘Are you well enough to walk?’ His eyes scanned her face, perhaps looking for a sign that she would lie to him.

Truthfully, Merlin wasn’t sure she knew the answer. Her feet ached, her Magic had vanished, and every time she tried to think back to the alley, the fastening of the dress tightened around her chest.

‘I think so.’ She finally muttered, hearing the embarrassment of her tone and lowering her head.

A Knight of Camelot, having to look after her, a serving girl. It was ridiculous, and she wanted to point that out, but her mouth had gone dry. Lancelot guided her to her feet, watched as she took a hesitant step.

‘Deep breath.’ The Knight stated, not giving her a chance to ask why before she was swept up in a smooth motion. It wasn’t the first time a Knight had carried her, but it was just as surprising as the first time, Lancelot briefly chuckling as she yelped.

They walked in silence, Lancelot moving through the shadows in the direction of the Inn, while Merlin considered trying to explain. In the end, her mind made the decision for her, blurting out the first truth that she thought of.

‘I don’t want to be a girl anymore.’ The moment the words were out, Lancelot faltered, glancing down with an unreadable emotion.

No, she could read it. Anger. Anger to the point of fury, where his teeth were clenched and his body trembled with the need to lash out.

If Lancelot reacted like this, she was glad that she’d picked him. Gwaine or Arthur might have snapped, and that thought was worrying.

They didn’t speak again until reaching the room they were staying in. Lancelot settled her down on the side of the bed, turning to grab her satchel and rummaging through it for spare clothes. Merlin attempted to get up to help, but the Knight’s head snapped in her direction, shaking firmly.

‘Stay.’ Doing as told wasn’t in Merlin’s nature, but she obeyed. Lancelot returned with a basin of water, rose a cloth to clean her lip and then her neck. Her hair was tied back with a spare neckerchief, and then she was guided to her feet.

Facing the wall was harder than she thought, and not because of the movement. More because she couldn’t see the person behind her, and even though she knew it was Lancelot, it was difficult to convince herself that he was a friend. Fingers undid the lacings of her dress, helping her out of the overskirts and then pausing when they reached the chemise.

Merlin hadn't abandoned her binders this time, however they’d been damaged during the incident.

‘I’m going to take these off.’ Lancelot waited for her to argue, but she didn’t, so he continued. Merlin studied the wall intently, focused on a single point as she was stripped from the waist up, her friend trying to avoid touching her skin.

Was she really that repulsive? Was it the Magic, like Harry had suggested, or just because of who she was? Merlin was more than aware she wasn’t the prettiest woman, she was far too tall, with cheekbones that were too sharp and ears that were abnormally large.

A shirt was dragged over her head, one that smelt of pine and sandalwood, a scent so typically Lancelot that she knew the shirt had to be his. The Knight turned her to face him, but his concentration as on removing the chemise that had been resting at her hips.

The shirt was large enough to come to mid-thigh, but Merlin was pretty sure that wasn’t enough to save her modesty.

‘Merlin, do you want me to… clean you up?’ For a moment, she was confused as to why she needed cleaning. Her mind seemed rather separated from her body, all the aches and bruises shocking, rather than understandable.

Seeing her confusion, he offered out a small smile, fingers lacing into hers briefly to squeeze. The comfort was nice, and so Merlin settled back onto the bed, watched as the cloth returned to her thighs.

This time, she did tense up. Her Magic even dared to flare up, which was strange, considering the earlier abandonment.

Lancelot said nothing, stayed quiet until she was dressed into a pair of britches and helped her get into the bed.

‘I only need to ask one thing, okay?’ He was crying. She hadn't noticed it to begin with, but it was clearer now that her head was less foggy. Tear-tracks marked his handsome face, glistening on wet eyelashes in a picture so… sincere.

Merlin nodded.

‘Who was it?’ For the briefest of moments, Merlin didn’t understand the question. She knew who it was, and Sir Lancelot probably knew, but he was still asking.

She understood it a fraction of a second later, that he was giving her the chance to choose his outcome. To choose to trust Lancelot, to trust the Knights, or to hide away like she would have done before they knew of her Magic.

He was still here. He hadn't run, or shouted at her, and he didn’t look to be angry with her. Lancelot didn’t judge her based on her Magic, or her sex, just on who she chose to be.

It was enough to have her heart swelling, tears prickling at the corner of her eyes as she forced her gaze to his.

‘The Innkeeper.’ She admitted, listening to his exhale as he rocked back.

‘Thank you.’

With that, the Knight left the room, sword in hand.


	7. Menage a trois?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lancelot gets mad, Merlin gets confused, and Gwaine does a little comforting

It hurt. Not the kind of hurt that came with a fresh wound, or the type that pained his head after a night of drinking with Gwaine. This was worse, so much worse, because it felt like he couldn’t breathe. His armour felt heavy, his shoulders naked of the cape that he wore, the sword burning his hand like he was unworthy to wield such a thing. Noise was nothing more than a buzz, the people in the Inn blurring into one as he moved towards the man that dared to lay a hand on Merlin.

It was his responsibility to keep her safe. Merlin had confided her secrets with him before, he’d kept the Witch safe when her Magic was hidden. Lancelot had been the one to encourage her to grow out her hair, to wear better-fitting shirts and not be ashamed of her sex. He was the reason that Merlin had been looking more female, and now…

A Knight did not attack a man without a weapon. Which was why he swung a punch first, disorientating the man that was currently flirting with yet another woman.

The innkeeper stumbled, drawing shouts from a couple of the people around him. Lancelot was nowhere near done, gripped the back of the dick’s shirt and dragged him to the work-side, throwing him down on it.

Punching didn’t do a lot to settle his anger. If anything, it made it so much worse, having to watch the man under him blubber and beg for his mercy. Had Merlin done such a thing, when he held her down? The bruising around her throat, the busted lip, that would be enough for him to commit murder. But he’d seen the extent of her injuries, had cleaned the blood from her thighs and had to pretend his heart wasn’t splintering.

Somebody grabbed his arm, hauling him back from Harry’s bloody form. In his anger, the Knight almost fought against the person holding him, until he saw Arthur’s confused stare.

A crowd had gathered, women clinging to each other and a split in the males as they tried to decide which one of them was in the right. Harry was a local, and that had drastically altered the mass of people.

He probably would have been pulled from the room by Arthur and the other Knights, had Harry have not made his fatal mistake.

‘I didn’t mean to hurt her, but the bitch had Magic!’ Arthur’s hand tightened on his shoulder, before it dropped. The confusion was replaced with a cold expression, and Harry’s throat bobbed while Lancelot smirked.

‘What did he do.’ It wasn’t a question, Lancelot was under no doubts of that. There were too many people trying to hear, he didn’t dare tell Arthur, not that it was his point to tell.

‘Something worthy of death.’ Lancelot answered honestly, watching as the King made his decision. It was brought a moment later, and considering they were on the border of Camelot, the Villagers were quick to abandon their fellow-friend.

He’d be banished from Camelot, with immediate effect. Lancelot didn’t care that he was still breathing, didn’t even care that the other Knights were looking at him like he was mad. It was probably the knuckles, split and bleeding steadily, but Lancelot was too busy waiting to go to Merlin.

**

She was on the verge of sleep when the door opened. Lancelot was the first in, his hand wrapped in a torn shirt that was slowly turning red, his eyes focused on her. The other Knights crowded in, and she could tell just be their expressions that Lancelot had not betrayed her trust. They knew nothing more than the fact that she was hurt, but it had been enough.

‘Sleepy?’ Lancelot kicked off his boots, ignoring the way that Arthur was staring at Merlin, instead coming to her side and sitting on the edge of the bed.

She shuffled out from under the blanket, taking Lancelot’s hand before he could try and hide it. The bandages didn’t hold out under her prying, and she gasped when she saw the mess. There were at least two breaks, skin torn and ripped, and Lancelot had the decency to look ashamed.

‘Does anyone want to tell us what happened?’ Arthur demanded, but he was hit on the arm by Gwaine, who had made his way to the other end of the bed.

‘I’m sorry for ruining your evening.’ She settled for that answer, then darted her attention back to his hand. One brush with her thumb was enough to start her Magic, which she’d always found was attentive to Lancelot’s needs.

‘Want to talk about it?’ Sir Percival asked, crouching down by her side of the bed to smile up at her.

‘No, not really.’

The Knights listened, climbing into their respective beds, and Merlin lowered her head back to the pillow.

She just needed to keep hidden until Camelot, and then she could sort out her appearance enough to pretend this had never happened.

**

Waking up was strangely peaceful, nothing like her previous nights. She was warm, comfy and wrapped up tightly, none of the frazzled nerves of yesterday. Her Magic had worked to heal her body, there was none of the pain between her thighs, and her lip was healed. She took stock of the ache in her muscles, then carefully tried to identify why her body was so hot.

‘Morning.’ The voice was rumbled out, but strangely not terrifying. Merlin concluded her body knew who it was, despite her mind being foggy from sleep.

Gwaine peered down at her, concerned but with his usual smirk. A quick look around confirmed that the others were still sleeping, Arthur’s leg thrown over Leon, while Elyan and Percival were wrapped up close.

Lancelot’s arm was around her waist, but the rest of her was pressed against Gwaine.

‘Gwaine… do you think I was supposed to be a boy?’ He showed no surprise, like Lancelot had. His head cocked to the side, and he looked thoughtful for a moment.

‘I think that you’ve had to hide for so long, that you’re unused to how to act now.’

‘With my Magic, or the fact I’m a girl?’ That earned a chuckle, which made his chest vibrate in a comforting way.

‘Both. But you can be whatever you want to be, Merlin. We’ll still love you.’ He froze a second after he spoke, while Merlin pulled back to stare at his face.

He had to be joking.

Gwaine’s eyes were wide, the same terror in them that had come up when discussing his family. The same panic when the chain around his neck snapped, and Merlin quickly repaired it with Magic.

He loved her. It didn’t matter in what context, because in that moment, Merlin had never felt happier. Her Magic began to spill out before she could stop it, her arms latching around his neck as she snuggled up against him. She feared he’d pull away, but he instead dragged her closer, until his nose was buried into her hair.

‘I love you too.’ She mumbled, felt Gwaine as he relaxed into her hold.

‘We all do, Merls.’ That was a thought that did something to her stomach again, her heart skipping as she tried to control it.

‘He’s telling the truth.’ Lancelot’s face was buried into a pillow, but she could still hear the words that slipped out. She grinned, moved to shuffle closer to him. Gwaine pressed up against her back, Lancelot to her front, and she hooked a leg over his to drag him closer.

‘Comfy.’ She stated happily, wondering when she’d decided that Gwaine was the right person to talk to about life advice.

‘Menage a trois?’ Gwaine asked over her shoulder, and Merlin laughed.


	8. How to fit in

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin's struggling with her place in Camelot, but Arthur and Morgana seem to have a plan

She could almost pretend nothing had happened. Arthur was back to being an idiot, Gwaine was chatting away like nothing had changed. The Knights kept up the laughter as they rode towards Camelot, while the Witch tried to decide what was going to happen when they got back to the Castle. Things wouldn’t be the same, that was for sure. She figured Arthur would replace her with George, now that he knew she wasn’t fit to serve him.

It wasn’t the worse thing in the world, she told herself. Merlin was still the Physician’s Apprentice, she had a position at Court regardless of the fact she was the manservant of the King. But would Gaius want her, once Arthur had told him what happened? Would the word spread that Merlin was indeed as defenceless as many had pointed out before?

And what of the laws on Magic? Arthur still hadn't said anything on the topic, regardless of how Morgana pushed for a better future. She should have been Emrys, Merlin mused, wondering why she had been given such a task when clearly the younger Pendragon was better suited.

‘What’s going on in that big head of yours?’ Gwaine quipped, glancing across at her with the usual smirk. It hid the concern well, but not enough for Merlin not to pick up on it.

‘Just thinking.’ It was the truth, she did have a lot to think about.

‘Careful, Merlin. We wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.’ Arthur joked, and she rolled her eyes fondly in the King’s direction.

**

The King summoned his Council, while Merlin slipped away into the darkness. Morgana and Gwen had came running the moment they clattered over the cobbles, but she didn’t fancy the conversation that was going to come. Instead, she made her way back to her room, thankful that Gaius was out.

Stripping out of the riding clothes, she managed to fill the small tub with water, climbing in with a flash of Magic to warm it.

The bruises on her skin were fading, the marks of her capture almost gone. It seemed rather unbelievable, everything she’d been through in the past week, but Merlin should have been used to such odds. Her bad luck was a thing that followed her everywhere she went, no matter how hard she tried to shake it.

A knock sounded on her door, and Merlin flinched.

‘Are you in there, Merlin?’ Gaius. She wasn’t sure whether to relax, or to freak, so she opted for a route in the middle. Tensing up, but carefully climbing from the water

‘Just cleaning up.’

‘You need to hurry, Lady Morgana’s decided to bring up Emrys.’

**

‘This is ridiculous, no sorcerer would willingly protect Camelot!’ One of the nobles cried, while Merlin snuck in to stand by Sefa. The maid glanced across, offering a bright smile, before they went back to watching the Round Table.

‘They’re not just a sorcerer. They’re a child of the Gods, the most powerful being to walk the earth.’ Morgana bragged, her hand in Gwen’s, the two of them facing the Council of Camelot like it was the simplest thing to do.

Arthur was on his throne, and Merlin had to admit, he looked every inch the King. The crown was seated upon his head, perfectly symmetrical, and that held her attention for more time than it should.

‘Sire, you can’t believe another sorcerer lives in Camelot?’ Arthur’s eyes sought her out, and Merlin had the decency to hold his gaze. She’d never openly admitted to what she was, but she had told him there was a destiny that they were supposed to share.

She’d been so busy worrying about the fact that she was born a woman, when the King would banish her for the secrets she’d still been keeping.

‘I know another sorcerer lives here.’ Arthur eventually said, eyes drifting to the noble. A silence fell, in which Merlin swore her heartbeat could be heard, but nobody said anything.

‘They’re a King of their people.’ Geoffrey of Monmouth stated, glancing through the papers that Morgana had collected. Merlin sometimes regretted getting her involved with the Druids, because her knowledge on who Merlin was supposed to be had rapidly outpaced her own.

‘A Queen.’ Morgana corrected sharply, while Merlin looked down at herself.

A Queen?

‘A Queen?’ Arthur echoed, a sound that resembled a strangling choke falling from his lips.

‘Queen of Magic, and the Druids.’ Morgana’s smug tone was itching under Merlin’s skin, making her question everything that had previously been set in stone.

Merlin wasn’t supposed to be anything other than Arthur’s manservant.

‘Then invite this so-called Queen to the Castle. If you want us to make peace with the Druids,’ One of the nobles looked to Arthur, bowing their head low, ‘Then a peace treaty would be needed.’

Morgana turned to look in Merlin’s direction, just as the rest of her friends had, and the Witch decided she needed to sit down sharpish.

**

Her hand trembled, the dagger remaining perfectly poised as she tried to decide if this was the right move. Black hair remained wrapped around her fingers, pulled taut and ready to chop, if that was the right decision.

There was going to be a feast.

Merlin could hear nothing but a faint buzz around her, and for once, her Magic had decided to have a good opinion on the matter. She had protected Arthur from the shadows so long, could she really step out from that?

Arthur was never going to forgive her.

If she ran, would she make it? It was tempting, just for the smallest moment, before Merlin looked up to meet her reflection.

They wanted a Queen, but she was nothing more than a manservant.

Which was fine. Let the Druids come, let them prove there peaceful standing to the whole of Camelot. If they wanted to meet Emrys, she would give them Emrys.

The knife was abandoned, and Merlin let her hair settle back around her shoulders.

Gwaine had been right, she didn’t need to change who she was. She just needed to stop hiding.

**

Arthur paced back and forth, watching the throne room fill with people that had gifts he’d been told to hate his entire life. Morgana and Gwen had disappeared, presumably to go and fetch the manservant that was apparently a Queen to these people.

Merlin.

His heart twisted painfully, the confusion and betrayal getting blurred into a mess of wanting to protect her. There was no doubt that Merlin was loyal to him, he knew that. But, over the past week, she’d proved that her Magic wasn’t always the thing that could save her. If that fell to Arthur, he was more than happy to take the responsibility of looking after her.

‘I’m going to tell her.’ Gwaine cheerfully announced, earning him some glares from the other Knights. Elyan began to argue, Lancelot bringing up the fact that she had been hurt this past week, she probably didn’t need the stress, but Arthur silenced them.

‘I hate to say this, but Gwaine has a point.’ Gwaine’s mouth dropped open, while Arthur straightened.

‘Merlin needs to know we’re here for her. Being patient has got us nowhere but hurt.’ He thought back to her staring at him over the campfire, her eyes pleading for him to help her.

He hadn't.

‘Thanks, Princess.’ Gwaine cheered, while the Knights glanced between each other.

‘What if she doesn’t want us?’ It was a very reasonable thing to point out. Merlin was headstrong, independent in a way that reminded him of Morgana occasionally. The difference was compassion, Morgana’s tongue was sharp, while Merlin’s always softened when needed.

‘It’s Merlin. She’s not going to leave.’ Elyan remarked, and Arthur nodded in agreement. He then noticed that Percival had gone quite still, as had Leon, and Arthur gestured to them.

‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’ The joke fell flat, because Gwaine and Lancelot had joined in on the staring. Elyan shrugged, following their gaze just as Arthur did, and he realised that it wasn’t a ghost.

‘More like a Queen.’


	9. Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin's beginning to understand something

‘Are you sure this will work?’ Merlin questioned, taking Gwen’s stunned silence as an answer. It had been Morgana’s idea, to use her Magic to craft an outfit for the evening. Although Merlin hadn't told the woman what had happened, Morgana’s eyes had strayed over the bruises and marks, before she’d been embraced.

‘You look incredible.’ Morgana assured her, green eyes filled with mischief like usual. Merlin was glad they were on the same side of Destiny, because having her as an enemy would have been a difficult thing to manage. Plus, Gwen was happy, which automatically made Merlin glad.

‘What if the nobles don’t agree?’ Merlin twisted to the side yet again, studying her reflection for another moment.

For the past week, ever since her Magic had been cut off during that night, Merlin had been struggling to comprehend what had happened. Her power wouldn’t respond like usual, there was none of the strength that had secured her position by Arthur’s side.

Now, she realised it wasn’t really her Magic that had changed. She was still the same Merlin, but it had been the loss of her gift that had startled her so badly.

Merlin didn’t need to change who she was, because she could protect Arthur regardless of what she looked like. Even without her Magic, her instinct had been to save him, and that was the thing that she held onto. The Knights hadn't abandoned her, Arthur hadn't disgraced her from his side. In fact, he’d given her the chance to admit to her Magic.

‘Have a little faith, Merlin. You deserve this.’ Morgana’s hand came to settle on her shoulder, thumb brushing over one of the covered marks.

For the slightest moment, she could tell Morgana knew what had happened. Merlin didn’t wonder why, she simply relaxed into the touch, tilted her chin up and prayed that the High Priestess wouldn’t abandon her.

‘We’re by your side.’ Gwen stated, smoothing down the front of her dress and coming to her other side.

They looked like an odd bunch of people, with Morgana’s gown of dark blue, Guinevere’s red and Merlin’s green. Whereas theirs were silks and finery, Merlin’s dress had been crafted of her magic, and so looked more… alive. Flowers hemmed the bottom, vines streaking down her arms and up to her neck, smooth against her skin. Two bracelets framed either wrist, connected to a thin green veil of leaves that seemed to move with her.

‘Okay.’ She reached out, took Morgana’s hand, then Gwen’s.

‘They’re going to love it.’

It was only as Merlin reached the doors that she realised Morgana’s words hadn't startled her, that she knew instinctively that the Witch wasn’t talking about the nobles.

The moment the doors opened, heads turned. Merlin could understand why, Morgana and Gwen were the perfect picture of nobility. They stepped in front of her, took each other’s hands and walked through the crowd, while Merlin wondered what it would be like to have someone that loved her as much as they loved each other.

The room was buzzing with Magic, druids that Merlin recognised from the camps bordering Camelot staring at her like she was… different.

She was doing this for Arthur. For Arthur, and for Morgana, and all of her friends. Merlin took a breath, then a small step into the room, so that the doors could be shut behind her.

Morgana had come to a halt, tilting her head back to meet her gaze, full of the encouragement Merlin needed to begin walking. Knowing her clumsy luck, she’d probably end up tripping on her gown, so she kept her feet steady as she moved through the crowds.

Daring to look at the crowds was a startling mistake, because she found that the Druids in the room were bowing. To begin with, it was only a couple of them, the elders that Merlin had met on multiple occasions. But as she moved, as her eyes moved over them, more and more began to copy suit. Bowing, like she was a Queen, rather than a Witch with a destiny she had never asked for.

Changing course happened without a thought, being drawn to the person that had always managed to keep her hidden before.

Arthur, as usual, looked like the golden Prince that Merlin had first met. Dressed in royal blues and reds, with his crown upon his head, eyes trained on her as she made her way towards him. People were talking, murmurs that weren’t quiet enough for her to miss, and Merlin would have fled were it not for her friends.

Gwaine, smirking at her like he knew this would happen. Elyan, eyes wide with his lips parted. Lancelot’s hidden smile, the concern that hid under it. Percival’s comfort that she’d relied on so many times. Even Leon, who smiled warmly as she approached, and Merlin risked a smile back.

She was the manservant of the King, regardless of what the Druids in this room thought. So, when she reached Arthur, she straightened her back and met his gaze.

When she curtseyed, it was the first time she had done it without sarcasm. Nothing but honesty, nothing but loyalty. She wanted him to know that she was still his Merlin, so she maintained eye contact as she did so, even daring to smirk.

‘Sire.’ The greeting dripped with the same smugness as usual, she made sure of that.

Arthur’s eyes snapped from the dress she was wearing back to her face, then a slow smile spread across his face.

‘It looks better than the hat.’ Just like that, any fear was gone, Merlin snorting as she rose back up.

‘Prat.’

‘Idiot.’

**

‘Can you imagine how cute you’d be together?’ Gwen nudged Merlin’s arm, the Witch trying to stutter out how she most definitely would not look “cute” with the King of Camelot. The same King that was currently surrounded by nobles, looked to be bored half to death, and kept rolling his eyes whenever he met her eye.

‘He’s the King of Camelot, Gwen.’ Merlin chided, sipping from her goblet carefully. Usually, her place was reserved to the shadows of the room, hidden from sight. Now, people came up to her and freely asked about Magic, even if some did so with judgemental stares. The Druids had finally stopped bowing to her, but they still called her Emrys.

‘And you’re the King of the Druids.’ Morgana arrived in a flurry of killer-smiles and fake politeness as she declined the hand of another noble-born man. She would dance with nobody but Gwen or their friends.

‘Apparently.’ Merlin grumbled, searching the crowd for her Uncle. Gaius had looked prouder than she’d ever seen before, had encouraged her to show off her gift considering this was her moment. His hand had rested on her shoulder, the eyebrow that was usually reserved for judgement instead focused in shock.

She made him proud, and for that, Merlin’s smile hadn't wavered.

‘Children of Magic and cuteness.’ Gwen’s words were nothing more than murmured, not meant to cause any harm at all.

But they struck Merlin cold, because all of a sudden, her brain kicked back in gear. The dance faded away, the music slipping away until her stuttering heartbeat was drowning out everything. The thought of tiny children, with bright hair and brighter eyes was one that she’d had before, but it was quickly being replaced with a different image.

Children born out of wedlock, like Merlin had been, were nothing more than bastards. Although she’d long overlooked her status as a woman, she wasn’t foolish, she knew the risks that fooling around could have.

Only she hadn't considered what had happened out on the Hunt, and now her Magic burned under her skin like it wanted to fight against the unseen threat.

‘Excuse us for a moment, Guinevere.’ Morgana’s hand grabbed hers, solid and grounding, a comforting gesture that Merlin would have relaxed into. Before she got the chance, they were moving away from the people in the room, away from the eyes that followed them. Guards didn’t ask why they were moving so fast, nor why they were heading away from the party.

They reached her home, Gaius’s home, in a record time.

Merlin sat down before she could fall, didn’t acknowledge the fact that Morgana was rummaging through stock supplies.

‘It’ll taste foul, but it’ll work.’ Morgana halted, turning and crouching down, a small cup in hand. The smell was worse than the potions Gaius concocted, but Merlin didn’t need to ask to know what it was. Shaking fingers closed around the offering, Morgana’s gentle hands guiding the drink to her lips.

It was downed in one gulp, mixing with the taste of wine and the fruits she’d been snacking one earlier.

Morgana didn’t ask, but Merlin did.

‘How did you know…’

‘Gaius was more than the Court Physician. He was in charge of raising me, of warning me on what might happen if I was not careful.’ Morgana had always been a terrifying woman, stone-faced yet compassionate.

In this moment, however, she looked the very opposite. The firelight illuminated the worry in her eyes, the crease in her brow as she studied Merlin. Morgana was young, no more than a year older than her, and Merlin sometimes forgot that. She also forgot what it must have been like, being raised in such a household as a female.

‘Did you ever need it?’ Merlin questioned, glancing back to the cup in her hands. Morgana shook her head swiftly, reaching out to link their fingers together.

‘None would dare. I taught Guinevere to defend herself, and Arthur was always overly protective, just as Sir Leon was.’ The Witch relaxed against the High Priestess, glad that her best friends had not been hurt in such a way. Had they ever had cause to wish themselves born in a different body, to not be the person they were?

‘Would you like to tell me what happened?’ Morgana then asked, Merlin shuddering as she looked back to the fire.

‘My Magic was taken.’ Morgana’s gasp sounded just as the door opened, as Gaius stepped into the room and looked between them. Merlin’s first instinct was to flee, but Gaius’s stare halted her from hiding. For an old man, he sure could move fast, coming to study the ingredients Morgana had ground together.

‘Merlin’s Magic was taken.’ The Witch would never have properly admitted it to her Uncle, even if she wanted to. Morgana was clever, starting the conversation for her while giving her a chance to pretend that certain things hadn't happened.

The moment Gaius identified the potion, his shoulders tensed. Merlin watched it happen, watched as the realisation dawned, before he took a seat in front of the fire.

‘By a spell?’

‘By cold iron.’ Merlin whispered, picking at the hem of her dress. The magic still lit it up, stitching the fabric together, although the beauty had dimmed a little as Merlin’s emotions darkened.

‘Where was Arthur?’ Morgana’s thumb brushed over her knuckles, soothing patterns to distract Merlin from her thoughts.

‘Tied up. All the Knights… they couldn’t get free. It was a camp of bandits, they had no interest in the King.’ When she shut her eyes, she could see Arthur’s wide-eyed panic, the way his lips shaped her name as she was dragged out with the others.

‘What did they want?’ Morgana was the only one speaking, for Gaius was still quiet, but his smile was just as comforting as Morgana’s touch.

‘A Hunt. There were others, five girls like me, that all had cold iron on them. In case we did have Magic.’

‘So they didn’t know who you were?’

‘They did by the end.’ Merlin had killed them.

‘How did you get free?’

‘It was a chase, we had to flee. I left… I left Arthur behind, and the Knights, I just ran-’

‘Anyone would.’ Morgana cut in, Merlin releasing a shaky breath as she tried to stop the images from flashing behind her eyes.

‘One of them caught up with me, and I thought I was going to die, I couldn’t… I bit him. Bit into his neck, and there was so much blood…’ She gagged, based on the memory of the metallic taste between her lips. Morgana ran for the bucket, while Gaius moved her hair aside so it didn’t get in the way as she tried to empty her stomach.

Sadly, it wouldn’t empty.

‘Aithusa came. I didn’t even call for him, but he came, and then the man was dead.’ A handkerchief to wipe her mouth, a glass of something that Merlin suspected was a broth.

‘One of them agreed to help me, we returned to the camp and he helped get the keys to the iron.’ Gaius was now by her side, and Merlin could slump into his side. Morgana waited patiently for the next part of the story, not pointing out that none of this explained the potion.

‘When the band was unlocked… I couldn’t stop it. My Magic had a mind of its own…’

‘For someone as powerful as yourself, it would have been dangerous to cut off your Magic.’ Gaius explained, like this was a perfectly ordinary conversation.

‘Did they see? The Knights?’ Morgana’s prompt led Merlin to remember how they’d embraced her, how Gwaine had held her tightly and Lancelot had kissed her brow. How safe she’d felt, with the Knights that she loved so much.

‘They did.’ She confirmed, but her voice must have wobbled, for Morgana began to fill in the blanks.

‘You thought they were horrified.

‘They watched me kill… I had to get away. I needed to give them space, and then there wasn’t a lot of coin, and the Innkeeper…’ She cut herself off with a gasp, bringing her fingers to her cheeks only to find them wet.

They didn’t need the end of the story to know what had happened, Morgana didn’t ask for anything else. She simply held Merlin while the Witch rocked back and forth, sobbing noisily into her dress.

‘Gaius, I was… Merlin?’ The one person she didn’t know if she wanted to see at this moment in time, standing in the open doorway with a look of confusion.

Gaius stepped into Arthur’s line of view, Morgana shielding Merlin from the King’s gaze, but Arthur had never been one for subtlety. He moved past Gaius, reached Merlin before the Witch could try and dry her eyes.

‘Out. Both of you.’

‘You can’t just order me about…’

‘Out.’ Arthur rarely interrupted Morgana anymore, usually bent to her will, but his tone was icy. Morgana hesitated, eyes flicking golden as she readied herself for the challenge, but Merlin was too tired to fight.

‘It’s okay.’

‘Merlin…’

‘I’m okay.’ Morgana glared at her brother, but did leave, with Gaius’s raised eyebrow as a further threat to the King.

Once the door shut, Arthur’s cold expression broke into worry, the golden-Prince crouching down and snatching her chin before she could look away.

‘What is it, Merlin? Is it the dance? I thought this would be what you wanted, to have your Magic recognised…’

‘It is! Oh, it is, Arthur. Thank you.’ It was everything she’d ever wanted, yet here she was, with tears still staining her cheeks.

Arthur looked so unsure, not used to dealing with Merlin crying. There had been a handful of times, like after she lost her Father, but this was different. It didn’t stop him from reaching out to brush away one of the tears, before he quickly rocked back onto his feet, clearing his throat.

‘Was it the fact I only banished the Innkeeper? Because I would more than happily hunt him down, put his head on a spike…’

‘I didn’t stop him.’ The words tumbled out in a rush, in a mess of tears and hiccupped sounds of apology. Arthur halted, startled, while Merlin realised she was about to prove just how useless she really was.

‘I had my Magic this time, but I didn’t… I should have done something, or tried to run, but…’

Merlin could count on her fingers the number of times Arthur had hugged her, which would probably explain why she squeaked when she was wrapped up into his arms. Out of armour, he really was quite nice to hug, even with his hair tickling her nose as she tucked it under his chin.

‘Merlin,’ She pulled back, but Arthur didn’t let her go too far, holding her with very little space between them.

‘Yes?’ Her heart was doing that strange thing again, her stomach twisting itself into knots as she looked into his eyes. Had they always been this blue, or was it the firelight?

‘I’d like you to consider the position of Court Sorcerer.’ Whatever she’d been expecting, it wasn’t that, and she quickly felt her legs buckle. The bench caught her fall, Arthur waiting with what she’d call an anxious expression on his face.

‘There’s nobody that deserves the position more, nobody whose risked their life like you have. Your loyalty to Camelot, to me, you deserve to be rewarded for it.’

‘You’re not just doing this out of pity?’ She questioned, fingers tangled in her lap as she glanced up. Arthur’s smile stretched, sincerity on his expression when he shook his head.

‘You’re the bravest person I’ve ever met, Merlin. I want you at my side.’

Well, when he said it like that, how could she ever refuse?

‘Yes.’


	10. Settling as Court Socereress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin's just getting comfortable in her role

With her new position, Merlin found herself in a state that nobody else had ever been in. Not many could remember the last Court Sorcerer, and those who could didn’t offer Merlin any insight into what she was supposed to do. So, like always, she stuck to Arthur. Woke him up in the mornings, dressed him ready for his Council meetings and training. Accompanied him down to the field, and stuck close to her friends while the Knights trained.

Her title drew attention, people flocking towards her, but Merlin didn’t feel comfortable with that yet. Morgana kept her close, would discourage anyone, especially of the male population, from getting too friendly. The Guards quickly learned not to attempt to stand close, although they kept up conversation as normal.

‘Good morning, Merls!’ Merlin flashed Gwaine her best grin, the Knight responding with the same enthusiasm. The training ground was empty, save for the Knights of the Round Table, so Merlin felt at home. She wandered across to the weapons rack, perching on the side and studying Arthur as he squared up to Leon.

The two were almost always evenly matched, much to Leon’s annoyance, for he was five years Arthur’s elder. In fact, Arthur was the second-youngest of the Knights, with only Lancelot being younger.

Percival had chosen to take on both Lancelot and Elyan, while Gwaine continued to lazily chew on an apple he seemed to have procured from nowhere. It was peaceful, like life had been before the Hunt, save for Merlin’s title.

Still, something didn’t fit in her new role. She glanced down to her clothing, to the ratty tunic and breeches, the neckerchief tied tight and another to pin back her hair. Still fitting the role of manservant, even though she was more than that now.

‘Everything dandy?’ Merlin startled, flicked her gaze to Gwaine, who was reading her better than she thought.

‘Just tired. Been up all night.’

‘Ooo, up all night hey?’ Gwaine’s eyebrows wriggled suggestively, and Merlin was surprised when the fighting stopped almost immediately. Heads snapped in their direction, although Merlin wasn’t quite sure why.

‘Oh yeah, obviously.’ She teased back, watching as Gwaine snorted with laughter. Arthur’s face softened when he realised they were both joking, his sword lowering.

‘Joining Morgana and Gwen?’ Nobody openly acknowledged the fact that they were a couple, only Gwaine would be so… forward. Merlin thought back to how the two of them had danced, held each other, the way that nobody else mattered but them.

‘Not my type.’ Merlin didn’t really think before speaking, too busy wondering if love like that was any different from what she felt for the men in front.

Then she realised what she’d said, blushed and ducked away from Gwaine’s whistling and the laughter of the other Knights.

**

‘Good evening, my Lady.’ Merlin halted mid-step, raising her eyes to the man in front. A noble, if she recalled correctly, a Lord Duncan from one of the Northern Kingdoms. He’d been a useful ally for the King before, so Merlin gave the curtesy of smiling, lowering herself into a bow.

‘My Lord. Might I assist you with something?’ Arthur would be expecting dinner soon, but Merlin supposed she could ask George to take it. They had come to a sort-of agreement, that Merlin assist with his chores, but in return, she be allowed some of the tasks she liked to do.

‘The first Court Sorcerer since Nimueh, it must be an honour.’ The fact that he knew Nimueh, had heard of her legacy, was enough to worry Merlin. The tell-tale signs of panic began, itching under her skin, before she remembered what Morgana had told her.

She was Merlin, but she was also Emrys. Her Magic was part of her, and that wasn’t going to change. It wouldn’t scare Arthur away, nor would the Knights judge her for it. Like Gwaine has said, it was all about love.

‘It is an honour, to finally be able to use my gift against those who threaten Camelot.’ She straightened her back and met his gaze, daring him to challenge her statement. She had to look a sight, she thought, wearing the clothes of a servant yet addressing a noble in such a way.

Lord Duncan’s eyes widened, before his smile returned.

‘The King’s lucky to have such a loyal subject.’ Merlin didn’t miss the sneer, nor the way his eyes lingered.

‘I’m the lucky one.’ Merlin countered, before brushing past him.

A hand clamped around her wrist, tighter than expected, but the Witch had expected him to act out. Although Merlin was yanked back, she brought her elbow back sharply like Morgana had suggested. Her height proved to be an advantage, hitting him in the neck as the noble stumbled back. Her next move was to raise her hands, Magic taking over as flames flickered at her fingertips.

Lord Duncan rose his head, hands at his neck like he was struggling to breathe, with a look of anger that would have terrified her. Would have, because it vanished the moment he saw her flaming hands.

‘Is there an issue here?’ Both of them startled, Lord Duncan trying to bow and forgetting that he had been working on his breathing, while Merlin looked at Arthur and his Knights with a thankful expression.

‘No issue, Sire.’ Merlin replied smoothly, letting the light die as she glanced to the noble. He glared, but admittedly did bow his head in her direction.

‘None, my Lord. If you’ll excuse me.’ Merlin watched him walk off, feeling a satisfaction in the fact he was still rubbing the sore skin.

‘Merlin?’ Arthur was waiting, but she did nothing but smirk.

‘Just settling in, Sire.’

**

On their first ride out of Camelot since the incident, it was the hottest day that Merlin could ever recall. She was slumped down into the saddle, grimacing at the sweat that was trickling down her spine and sticking her shirt to her skin. None of the Knights looked that pleased with the King’s decision of a ride, even Lancelot had voiced his discomfort.

‘Where exactly are we going, Sire?’ Leon called, his skin a reddish colour that Merlin could tell was the beginning of a burn. She made a note to apply a salve, glancing around to ensure that none of the others bore the same malady.

‘Just up ahead, I thought we could all do with cooling down.’

By the time Merlin realised where their destination was, she was just about ready to topple from her mare.

The lake looked inviting, clear waters stretching out and shimmering in the midday sun. Arthur was the first from his horse, but none of the Knights dallied, tying up their horses and racing towards the lakeshore like children.

Merlin averted her eyes from the falling armour and tunics, instead focused on removing the saddle from her mare. It was not the first time they had gone swimming at the lake, although Merlin never joined.

Still, her eyes flicked to where Gwaine was attempting to splash Arthur, who in return got Percival to dunk him under the water. It looked cool, perfect for such a hot day, and why should they have all the fun?

Before she could shy away from the opportunity, she kicked off her boots, reaching for the neckerchief and untying it. She hadn't bothered with a jacket that morning, just a tunic that she stripped off and left to dry out. The binders would have to stay, but the breeches could be taken off, leaving her in just her smallclothes.

When she finally deemed herself ready for the water, she noted that the horseplay had stopped. Arthur was choking up some of the lake water, while the others wisely stayed quiet as she waded out into the lake.

As children, her and Will had often swum out in the lake closest to Ealdor. This was no different, just as soothing, and Merlin dived underneath and kicked for the bottom.

Resurfacing was easy, a deep breath of air as she slicked back her hair and glanced around to her friends.

‘A race?’ Gwaine suggested, and Merlin quickly agreed.

**

‘I suggest a game.’

‘Your games end up with trouble.’ Arthur muttered from the shallow water, nursing his pride after losing to all of his men, and Merlin. The Sorceress was floating away from the group slightly, completely relaxed, and Arthur finally understanded why Gwaine had whispered this suggestion to him last night. He hadn't even asked for credit, pretending he had no idea that they were going to the lake.

‘This is the kind of game you’d like to play, Princess.’ He would indulge Gwaine, if only because it made Merlin laugh. Like now, her bright eyes and dangerously sharp cheekbones on show as she swam across towards the Knight.

‘What are the rules?’ She inquired, flicking water at Lancelot, who did his best to look offended.

‘It is a game of pairs.’

‘What a shame, it looks like I’ll have to sit out.’ Elyan chimed, while the others all shot him glares. Arthur gestured for Gwaine to continue, swallowing when he saw the look on the Knight’s face.

‘I have decided to name it Chicken.’

‘Why chicken?’

‘Because that is what you will look like, when you run around.’

The game, Arthur decided, was completely biased. Listening to the idea, the very notion that someone would sit on another’s shoulders, with the very aim to dunk the other pairs, seemed ridiculous. For one, they were all quite well-built men. Secondly, Percival would always have to be on the bottom, for there was no way any of them could hold his weight.

‘I claim Lance.’ Gwaine chimed, grabbing the Knight and dragging him close. Lancelot sighed, but knew better than to deny the eccentric man. Leon smiled across at Percival, an alliance formed, which left Arthur to look to Merlin.

She looked dubious of the game, but nonetheless came to his side.

‘Very well. Last one dunked is the winner.’

**

There was something altogether unnerving about being seated upon Arthur’s shoulders. His hands were settled on her bare thighs, fingers oddly comforting against her skin, while she tried not to wriggle too much.

‘You’re like an oversized limpet.’ Arthur grumbled, while Merlin glanced across to the competition. Lancelot did not look impressed to be held up by Gwaine, whereas Leon had managed to situate himself on Percival’s shoulders and looked ready for battle.

‘Remember, gentleman, lady, last to fall!’ With that, Gwaine was charging in the direction of Percival, a move so funny that Merlin burst into laughter. She then squeaked and gripped onto Arthur’s hair, the King beginning the charge towards the other two pairs.

It quickly became apparent that the game was biased. Percival could inflict more damage than Gwaine or Arthur, while Merlin was nimbly taking down the opponents. Lancelot was the first to fall, Gwaine swearing as they both went under, while Merlin reached for Leon.

The Knight was quick, aiming for soft spots and trying to drag her down. She settled for a slightly dirty move, reaching for his chest and letting her fingers linger for just a moment too long.

Leon’s eyes went wide, and Merlin delivered the final shove, grinning when they both went tumbling back.

‘Victory!’ She cheered, attempting to dance, but it ended with her being unbalanced from Arthur’s shoulders.

When she kicked back up from under the water, the group had re-gathered.

‘You cheated.’ Gwaine tried, but Merlin just rolled her eyes.

‘Cheating would be using my Magic.’ She halted after the words, but the idea had already taken residence in Gwaine’s mind.

‘Oh no.’ Lancelot muttered, while Gwaine’s smile turned to a deadly-charm.

‘Merlsssss,’ He drawled, taking a step closer, ‘Fancy showing us something?’ The thing was, Gwaine was quite distracting when he was shirtless. Merlin could have sworn that her heart had skipped, forcing her eyes to stay on Gwaine’s.

‘Like?’ She croaked, hoping she wasn’t blushing.

‘Something… magical.’ She swam away a little, mostly because he was less distracting when he wasn’t right in front.

What best to show? Merlin pondered for a moment, before deciding that her magic would be best leading the way.

It was easy to connect to the earth around them, a mere thought was enough for her Magic to begin to pick up. The water around her started to twist and turn, a rapidly forming whirl encasing her while she focused on shaping the water.

It worked. The water began to move, leaving the lake and tracking upwards, before splitting into tiny little raindrops and scattering out over the lake.

It was like she’d paused the rain, each one reflecting the sunlight as she kept them in focus.

‘Incredible.’ Leon murmured, breaking her concentration so they fell back to the lake, splattering noisily.

Nobody had praised her Magic in such a way before, and Merlin knew her smile would stay for the rest of the day.


	11. Drunken Ramblings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin's chatting away as she drinks some wine

There was a very good reason for Merlin stealing the King’s supply of wine. It had something to do with waking up after a very confusing dream, combined with the realisation that she had something that most of the women in Camelot wanted.

The attention of the Knights. It had been rather by accident that she figured it out, running late to training and rushing towards the armoury with a pile of Arthur’s chainmail weighing her down. Usually, she’d have knocked first, just to make sure that they weren’t all undressed. Instead, she went to open the door with her shoulder, halting when she heard her name.

‘Merlin’s a right looker.’

‘Definitely. Especially in those new…’ A thump, Merlin peeking around to find that Sir Percival had grabbed the younger Knight by his collar, lifting him completely off the ground. Sir Leon was by his side, a glare on his face that made Merlin herself feel guilty.

‘If I hear you speaking of the Court Sorceress like that again, I’ll tell the King. Or worse, I’ll tell Merlin.’ He was dropped, regained his footing and bowed his head quickly, murmuring out an apology and disappearing.

For a second, she was confused. Then she spotted the other Knights, her friends, who all looked pleased with the submission of the younger Knight.

So, Merlin had come to the conclusion that they were protecting her from the leering of men. Part of her, the same part that had her stomach twisting and turning daily, wanted it to be because of jealousy. But that notion was ridiculous, so she had to settle for the alternative.

They thought of her as someone who needed protecting. Merlin had growled out many curses, considered going down to the training grounds and challenging one of them to a duel right now. In the end, she’d decided the best way to piss Arthur off was by stealing his beloved wines. Sneaking in wasn’t difficult, and a quick spell to conceal the liquid was perfectly within her skillset.

She ended up on the grassy bank outside of Camelot’s walls, drinking away as she watched the sky. It was strange, how it was the same sky that she had looked up at that night, yet now she felt none of the terror. Maybe an ache, a hollowness that came when she thought of everything that had happened.

She’d considered the Knights liking her. Now, with alcohol to numb the ache, she could laugh freely at the very thought. Her, a bastard-born child with nothing to her name, other than her Magic. Impure, burdened with a destiny that she could never abandon. What man would want her, when she dressed like a man yet could wield no blade, had lost her maidenhood but had no knowledge on the subject of sex?

Before she could quite comprehend what was happening, the wine jugs around her were empty. She had just one left, and it was quickly emptying, which would mean she had to go back to Camelot.

A rustling caught her attention, a flicker of movement that had her Magic prickling under her skin.

‘What do we have here, then?’ A voice called, while Merlin groaned. All she’d wanted was some time away from men, yet they seemed to be overrunning Albion. Honestly, someone should deal with that issue, it was becoming an infestation.

‘Someone who doesn’t care for your company.’ Merlin cheeked, letting her eyes wander to the man who thought himself clever by interrupting her drinking. He was a large fellow, but that wasn’t the issue she spotted.

He was holding a sword that belonged to a Knight of Camelot. Stolen swords were a serious issue, so she should probably bring him in to Camelot, especially seeing as he was only just outside of the city.

He wasn’t alone, either. He had a friend, smaller in height, but bulkier. Both of them moved towards her like a predator trying not to spook prey, Merlin watching as she finished the last of her drink.

Standing up was more threatening than the men in front, her head spinning as she wobbled.

‘Woah, give me a minute.’ She held up a hand, sorted out her internals, then looked back up.

They looked quite confused. She might have found it amusing, had one of them not reached for a dagger. Merlin reacted based on instinct, eyes filling with gold as she disarmed them both, before binding their hands with thick vine. The finishing touch was a gag, before she studied the two of them.

‘Back to Camelot, then.’ She cheered, while the men just quivered.

**

‘You need to come and see this.’ Morgana had just interrupted a Council meeting, a thing that Arthur would usually have to punish, had she not looked so amused. He rose, waiting for a little more of an explanation, but his sister didn’t offer much.

‘All of you.’

Walking through his Castle, he realised that the Guards had abandoned their posts. No servants or maids roamed the corridors, which implied that they were all wherever Morgana was leading them.

That location turned out to be the Courtyard, where two men were bound to the floor by what looked to be some very aggressive plants. Two swords were buried into the stone in front of them, much like Arthur’s sword had been, and he recognised the hilt as that of Camelot. But the men weren’t Knights, nor anything close to that title.

There was also the small matter of the Dragon. A beast of white, shiny scales reflecting the sunlight, eyes the colour of the sky. It was around the size of a stag, bounding around the courtyard and back to the men, before getting distracted. Clearly, there was no threat. Most people looked curious, rather than terrified, and the reason behind that quickly became clear.

Merlin was sitting cross-legged on the cobbles, drinking from what looked to be his wineskin, occasionally chattering away to the two men bound to the floor. The Dragon bounced across to her, nuzzling like an affectionate pup, the Witch cooing and scratching at its neck.

‘Arthur!’ She grinned like a madwoman, jumped to her feet and then pointed.

‘I found these men stealing swords.’ He’d had an issue recently, the very same one he had been raising to the council before Morgana’s interruption, about people stealing from the King. Several blacksmiths had reported that swords were going missing, yet Merlin found them like it was easy.

‘Are you drunk?’ Leon asked, which should have been apparent considering the flush to her cheeks and the wide smile she offered him.

‘Yes.’ Well, at least she was honest.

‘Merls! You didn’t invite me!’ Gwaine pouted like a child, and to make things worse, Merlin seemed to fall for it. She rushed to his side, offering out the wineskin.

‘Mm, this is the good stuff.’

‘It’s Arthur’s.’ Had the King not been walking across to the two bound men, he might have frowned at her.

‘Take them to the Dungeons, I’ll deal with them in the…’ He froze, because before his very eyes, the two men had vanished. Murmurs picked up in the courtyard, heads spinning as they tried to find out where they’d gone.

‘Merlin?’

‘You said put them in the Dungeon?’ She questioned, to which Arthur slowly realised what she was hinting at.

‘You moved them.’

‘Obviously.’

‘With your Magic.’

‘Is that illegal again?’ A couple of people looked amused, while Arthur just sighed.

‘Lancelot, Gwaine, get Merlin somewhere where she can’t spill the Crown’s secrets.’

‘Like the donkey ears?’

‘Now.’ He ordered, watched as Gwaine scooped Merlin over his shoulder like a child. She squealed, but didn’t do anything other than smile at him.

**

The world was upside down. Actually, it might be her, but she wasn’t sure. Her view was of Gwaine’s backside, and she had to concede, it was quite a nice view. She hummed in thought, before focusing on the hand currently on her thigh, holding her in place.

‘How much did you drink exactly?’ Leon asked, Merlin attempting to twist her head to see him. Being carried by one Knight of Camelot, with four surrounding her? It would make any woman swoon, so it was probably a good idea for her to be carried.

‘The King’s wine.’ She replied, while Elyan snorted.

‘How much of it?’

‘Yes.’ A sigh came from Leon, while the others just looked amused. Even Lancelot was trying to hide a smile, which was a good sign.

They made it to Arthur’s Chambers, where she was plonked down onto the bed with very little delicacy. She would have protested, had she not immediately become distracted by the fact that the bed was rather bouncy.

‘So, we’re on babysitting duty while the King finds out if the men are actually in the Dungeons?’ Merlin heard the words, but logically didn’t comprehend them, too busy rocking on the mattress.

‘This is going to be great.’ Gwaine rubbed his hands together, taking a seat and laughing when Merlin managed to get to her feet. Somewhere along the line, she’d had the sense to remove her boots.

‘Was the Dragon yours?’ Percival spoke up, and the mention of her hatchling drew her attention. Merlin nodded, clapped her hands together as she remembered hatching Aithusa.

‘S’mine, I hatched him.’ She stated proudly, before remembering she’d left him in the Courtyard. Reaching out was easy, locating him just outside of Camelot’s walls.

‘Hatched him?’

‘I’m a Dragonlord.’ Lady, same thing, she rolled her eyes at the comparison. The world was sexist, but she’d get used to it.

‘That’s what I saw!’

‘Gwaine…’ Lancelot warned, but the Knight ignored him.

‘On that night, I saw your Dragon in the sky.’ That night, Merlin’s thoughts rolled back to try and pinpoint what he meant. When she reached the conclusion, she nodded.

‘I called him!’ She explained, Gwaine’s smile growing.

‘He helped save you.’

‘Burned him.’ She explained, watching as Gwaine’s brow furrowed.

‘You said… you said you hurt him.’

‘I did. I bit his throat out.’

Merlin had never actually intended to admit to that truth, but it just seemed to slip out. The silence that fell broke through the numbness, and Merlin crawled quickly to the end of the bed while shaking her head.

‘I didn’t mean to! I…’

‘We’re not mad.’ Elyan cut in, taking a seat beside her. She paused, then risked snuggling up to the Knight. He tensed, then wrapped an arm around her.

‘If he was close enough for you to bite his throat, then he deserved worse.’ Gwaine growled out, which amused Merlin to no end. She sniggered, waggling her finger at him.

‘No growling. You’re not a dog.’ That earned her more laughter, which was nice, and she relaxed into the sound of it.

‘So why did you get drunk?’ Lancelot asked, sitting on the King’s table and watching her.

‘To confess your undying love for me?’ Gwaine teased playfully, and Merlin giggled.

‘I already said I loved you, Gwaine!’ That drew some shocked expressions, and Gwaine’s smile turning softer.

‘You did?’ Elyan asked, his arm dropping as Merlin wiggled back.

‘Course! And Lancelot.’

‘Should we feel offended?’ He joked, to which Merlin rolled her eyes.

‘You know I love all of you, you’re just fishing for affection.’ She must have said something surprising, because Elyan’s mouth parted, before he quickly controlled his expression.

‘Have you ever been in love with someone? Romantically, I mean.’ Leon amended, and Merlin considered the question. Her mind provided an answer to the question, which she said aloud.

‘Yes.’ It was true, but the people she currently loved weren’t the original answer to that question.

‘Her name was Freya.’ She added, and she watched as each man turned to her in shock.

‘Was?’ Percival questioned gently, taking her hand. Merlin wasn’t sure why, it wasn’t painful to talk about anymore.

‘She died. But now she’s the Lady of the Lake and an immortal being, so I guess that’s a positive.’ They all had heard of the Lady of the Lake, she could tell by the shock.

‘That’s hot.’ Gwaine was hit by Leon, then by Lancelot.

‘I’ve also kissed Gwen.’ She added, thinking back to her first experience of poison.

‘Bloody hell.’

‘I knew that!’ Elyan chimed in, Merlin giggling.

‘And Morgana. But that was an accident.’

‘Any other kisses?’

‘Will, I guess. Oh and Princess Mithian.’ That earned several gasps, while Merlin thought back to the Princess. She’d been so unsure, the kiss quite gentle, and Merlin had been thoroughly confused.

‘You’ve had far too many women kissing you.’

‘S’cause I look like a boy.’ She protested, glancing down to her trousers and frowning. Maybe she should change, they were right. Far too many women, but no men. Well, Will had kissed her, but that was as childhood friends.

‘Oh Merls…’

‘Maybe I should wear dresses? Or…’ She was cut off by Gwaine rising from his chair, moving over to where she was seated on the edge of the bed.

There was something in his eye that had her shivering, leaning into the touch that came as his fingertips reached for her jawline. They traced her skin, moved to her chin and tilted her head up, Merlin glancing up at Gwaine in confusion.

In the end, she blamed the alcohol for the fact she closed the distance, kissing Gwaine rather hesitantly. He had waited for her to make the move, but the moment her lips brushed over his, he pressed back with an equal pressure. It was rather nice, different from her other kisses, warmer.

Gwaine pulled back, leaving Merlin thoroughly startled. Her stomach felt tense, and she was aware that the eyes of the Knights were on her.

Gwaine had kissed her.

The door to the room opened, Arthur moving in and dumping his sword onto the table. Usually, she’d tell him off for such a thing, but right now she was still trying to catch her breath.

She’d kissed Gwaine.

‘Did I miss something?’ Arthur, oblivious as ever, asked.

She wanted to kiss Gwaine again. Worse, she wanted to kiss all of them, to feel that same warmth that came, like she was safe.

Loved.

‘Gwaine kissed Merlin.’

‘Merlin drunk your wine supply.’

‘Merlin’s kissed Princess Mithian.’ Three answers, only Gwaine and Percival stayed silent.

Gwaine had said he loved her. Did he mean it to be in a different way than friends? Did he mean to kiss her?

Would he have done, if he’d seen what Lancelot had on the night at the Inn?

‘Gwaine did what?!’ Arthur was now staring at Merlin, but the Witch was too busy touching her lips. Strange, she’d never felt so different after one kiss.

‘I’m going on a walk.’ Merlin proclaimed loudly, before using her Magic to vanish from the room, leaving behind six startled men.


	12. The beauty of Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin's drunk self has decided to summon some animals

Touching her lips again, she could have sworn they tingled. It felt real, the way Gwaine had pressed against her, but she couldn’t be sure. After all, Merlin had a habit of losing everyone she ever cared for. It would serve her right for this to be snatched as well, taken before she could hope of understanding what had just happened.

The forest felt like a second home, despite what had happened during their last outing. Every step brought her further solitude, a peace that settled over her like a frost on a cold morning. She’d forgotten her boots, but it didn’t really matter when her Magic connected to the earth. Where her feet moved, thick moss sprouted to keep her from hurting her feet, while she stretched her fingers out and tried to connect.

The thing about Magic, was that it was alive. Just as she lived and breathed, just as the animals did, her Magic was gifted the same ability. Released from a cage, able to break out and flourish under the careful watch of the forest. Who would the trees tell? The plants could do nothing but admire, and as Merlin shut her eyes, she could have sworn she felt them.

First came the largest of trees, the ones that had seen Kings come and go, had watched the beginning of Camelot and would see the end. Then the younger ones, desperately racing upwards to reach the sun, demanding the warmth her magic could offer. Shrubs and ferns, stretching through the undergrowth and providing a home for the smaller creatures, breathing in and out steadily as she moved through them.

Further she pushed, until the flowers turned to face her like she was their sun. At some point she had stopped walking, tilted her head back and used her magic to unpin her hair.

She’d never thought to connect to the plants as well as the animals. The earth gifted her a tether, but she pushed it to the edges, until she could feel Camelot’s lands like she could see them. There were people milling around, living within the boundaries of her power, and she could feel them too. Children, adults, even the animals that they were keeping.

Something touched her nose, just lightly, and Merlin let her eyes flicker open. When she saw the blue butterfly, she had no choice but to laugh, raising a hand only to find another seated upon it.

Her Magic had been gifted so that she could unite Albion, and she’d never really seen it as anything other than who she was. Whether it was for bad or good, her Magic was who she was.

But it was clearly more than that, powerful in a way she hadn't anticipated.

Call her selfish, but Merlin wanted to see. She wanted to know what it felt like, to see how far her Magic could go.

She’d blame the alcohol, later, but for now…

Another burst of Magic, while Merlin gave up trying to control what she’d been given.

**

The thing was, there were too many places to look. The trees seemed to lean downwards, thick and green despite the fact that there hadn't been rain in a while. Flowers had bloomed despite the dark, moss guiding the path to the Witch.

The clearing was a mess of colours, blue butterflies that swarmed in clouds while birds settled on nearby branches. The rabbits didn’t fear them, allowed them to walk right past them as they tracked down the woman that had vanished.

Merlin herself was chatting away to a deer, dressed in nothing more than a green fabric, much like the dress, apart from the fact that this was split into trousers and a loose shirt. Her arms were bare from textile, although they housed countless butterflies, just as her hair did.

They remained hidden, using the newly blossoming undergrowth to provide a spot to watch.

Gwaine had never seen Merlin look so… happy. Settled, in the way she softly stroked the deer’s fur, or smiled down at the other creatures gathering at her ankles. If she was aware of their presence, she made no attempt to reveal such a thing, simply giving each of the animals a moment of her time.

It hadn't been hard to follow her from Camelot. Merlin was predictable, and she usually took this path when she needed time alone. Gwaine hadn't wanted to follow her, worried that she needed some space after the kiss, but Arthur had pointed out that she’d drunk far too much to be allowed to randomly teleport across Camelot.

Now, the King appeared to have changed his mind. Arthur’s eyes didn’t stray from Merlin, lips parted slightly and a look of awe that Gwaine knew each of them were expressing.

If they had been angry at him for kissing Merlin, it was wiped out the moment they saw that she wasn’t upset.

He didn’t know whether he should have done it. She was drunk, yes, but he’d waited. He’d always been helpless when it came to Merlin, drawn in like the animals were, and in that moment, he’d have given her whatever she wanted.

‘Oh!’ Merlin’s cry broke his wandering thoughts, snapping his attention to where her gold eyes were staring.

At a wolf.

Gwaine’s hand reached for his sword, just as the other Knights did the same, but Lancelot was the one to hold a hand out.

Another wolf appeared, then a cub, before Gwaine realised she’d had the unfortunate luck of running into a Pack. They weren’t that common, close to Camelot, but they did exist.

‘Look at you.’ Merlin breathed out, and to Gwaine’s shock, dropped down to her knees like she was witnessing a miracle.

He didn’t realise he’d been holding his breath until the wolf nuzzled into her outstretched palm, felt the blood finally begin to pump again as he watched the Pack move forwards.

**

Merlin had seen wolves before, obviously. But she’d never thought them so big, nor with coats as thick as this. Her fingers dug into the soft fur, trailing through it as the wolves padded around the clearing. Some were more distrusting of her, but the cubs and some of the females seemed more than happy to accept her attention.

The deer that Merlin had been talking to before remained, chewing away at a plant while carefully watching the wolves.

‘You remind me of Aithusa.’ She told the Cub, before her Magic prickled under her skin. She’d been more than aware that the Knights of Camelot had been approaching, but they hadn't proved a threat, so she allowed them to get closer. Now, they had to be within talking range, and she searched the darkness for them.

‘Want to meet my new friend?’ Gwaine appeared first, just as she’d expected. Lancelot was quick by his side, with Percival making the third. To her shock, it was Leon that stepped out next, followed by Elyan, and finally, Arthur.

‘You’ve made lots of friends.’ Arthur pointed out, glancing to the deer like it had personally offended him. That made her giggle, and she stretched her hand out to aim the wave of butterflies towards him. Arthur swore, then vanished from sight as they flooded around him.

‘I didn’t know you could do this.’ Gwaine gestured around them, Merlin following the movement with her gaze as she studied her work.

‘Nor did I.’ She stated happily, handing over the Cub when Gwaine sat down. The others copied, while Merlin directed different animals towards them.

‘Merlin, don’t move.’ Arthur’s butterflies had gone, and in their place stood a very worried King.

To say she was surprised to see a Griffin was an understatement. The creature cocked its head to the side, while Merlin studied the beast. She’d fought one before, of course, when Lancelot had managed to kill it.

It had answered her call of Magic. That could mean only one thing, that it was connected to her like every other creature in the clearing. Perhaps she should stop sending out her Magic, if dangerous magical beasts were drawn to her like a beacon. Still, Merlin thought it rude not to introduce herself, rising up and dusting down her clothes.

‘Merlin.’ Lancelot hissed, but she just shrugged.

‘They only came because I called.’ The Griffin regarded her for a moment, like it was trying to understand why it had felt drawn to her. She did the same, before offering a smile.

‘I’m Emrys. I didn’t mean to call you to me, I was just… experimenting.’ Like a Physician’s apprentice, Gaius would say, experimenting to better understand. She wasn’t sure if he’d approve of such a blatant display of Magic, nor summoning dangerous creatures this close to Camelot.

The Griffin made a squawking sound, but it made no move to attack, so she presumed that was acceptance.

‘I suggest going far from Camelot, perhaps the North? I’m not quite sure… Elyan, why are you laughing?’ The Knight wasn’t the only one, Percival was smirking, Gwaine was struggling to hide his giggles. Even Arthur was looking amused, so Merlin pouted.

‘You’re talking to a Griffin.’ Lancelot pointed out, the Witch growing confused.

‘So?’

‘Couldn’t do that the first time, Merlin?’ Arthur was teasing her, she realised, and the worry lifted. She even dared to laugh, before turning back to the Griffin.

It was gone, disappearing back into the darkness like it had never been here.

‘I suppose we should go home.’ She said aloud, feeling slightly sad as she started to draw her Magic back in.

They gave her time to say goodbye, first to the wolves, then to the deer. Merlin made sure to thank the birds that had come, and the rabbits still hopping around. The path back was guided by thick moss, useful, considering how night had fallen quite quickly.

Leon unpinned his cloak, wrapping it around her shoulders, and Merlin thanked him quietly.

She wasn’t sure that she wanted to go back. Going back meant sleeping, and waking up in the morning with a headache like Arthur usually got after drinking. It meant having to talk to Gwaine about the kiss, having to explain that she wasn’t nearly worthy enough of his affections.

‘Oh my…’

‘Bloody hell.’

‘Look, Merls.’ She glanced up, confused as to why they had stopped.

When she looked forward, however, the answer became very clear.

She’d seen such a beautiful creature once before, when Arthur had hunted and killed it, causing damnation to fall upon Camelot.

The Unicorn remained still, studying the group of them before going back to grazing. For Arthur, this had to be a reminder of the last occasion, where he offered himself to save her. The Knights began to chatter about it, marvelling at the beauty of the creature, while Merlin wondered if any of the blood in her body remained.

She wasn’t in awe, she was horrified.

Her Magic had summoned a creature to her, one that was only supposed to appear to those who were pure. That certainly wasn’t her, not anymore, and so she had broken the purity of the creature by demanding its presence.

Just as quickly as peace had come, torment returned. The clothes shrunk around her chest, squeezing out the air as her eyes began to well up, taking a dreaded step away from the magnificent creature in front. Her foot landed on twigs, rough and broken, rather than the smooth moss that had paved her way before.

The Unicorn rose its head, staring at her like it understood her pain, and it just made things worse.

‘Merlin?’ Percival was the only one watching her, but the moment he said her name, the others looked across.

‘What’s wrong?’ Arthur was by her side in a heartbeat, just like he had been when it came to the moment of proving himself pure of heart.

‘I… I brought it here.’

‘But it won’t be harmed, remember?! The Unicorn was saved, it’s protected…’

‘I made it come here!’ Merlin shouted, angry at herself, angry at her Magic for doing something like this. The Unicorn took a step closer, while Merlin pulled away, shoving out of Arthur’s grip and almost tripping over Elyan in her haste to run.

‘Merlin…’ Gwaine tried, looking just as spooked as the others as Merlin rose her hands to her forehead, wondering if she could reverse the beacon she sent out.

If she sent everything away, would it stop her from causing anymore damage?

‘Talk to us, Merlin.’ Lancelot’s voice was soft, but she could barely hear it over her hiccupped gasps.

‘The Unicorn is just another creature of Magic, drawn to…’

‘I made it come! I forced it to come to be, and I wasn’t worthy of it!’ How couldn’t they see the issue? A Unicorn was incredibly rare, just as Merlin had told Arthur when he shot one.

‘A Unicorn comes…’

‘To those who are PURE!’ She snapped out, and when the last word had fallen from her lips, she clapped both hands over her mouth like it would start spilling more secrets.

At any other time, she might have found it funny that six men fell so still so quickly.

The Unicorn nickered softly, and that was just about all Merlin could take.

In all the stress, she’d rather forgotten that she was holding her breath, and Merlin barely had time to put her hands out before her knees buckled.

Like it wasn’t bad enough, her last sight as her vision went black was the bright white of the unicorn, as beautiful as ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I... apologise


	13. A dress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Progress is made with Lancelot, and Merlin finally realises she might be allowed to like the Knights of Camelot.

The thing was, waking up was a hell of a lot worse than she thought it was going to be. It did help that someone was there to grab her hair when she threw up, bile burning her throat as the wine from yesterday made a reappearance. A soothing hand settled on her back, murmuring apologies while her gut twisted.

‘Easy, deep breaths.’ It wasn’t Gaius, and it wasn’t her room. It didn’t take her long to identify the room as Lancelot’s, so it was unsurprising when she found the hand belonged to him.

‘This sucks.’ She grumbled, then realised that she was no longer wearing the clothes from last night. Her shirt was gone, as were the breeches, but her bindings and smallclothes remained. Clearly she had tensed up, because Lancelot’s voice was back.

‘I took them off, you landed in a lot of mud.’ Ah, yes, the Unicorn. Merlin responded to the words by throwing up again, before lowering a hand to her stomach and groaning.

‘That’s what you get for drinking the King’s wine.’ Lancelot’s hand came to brush aside her hair, offering some water to clean out her mouth, along with a sprig of mint, before his head turned to look across the room.

A large bathtub sat in front of the fire, filled with water that Merlin decided was going to be her saviour.

‘I love you.’ She stated, very honestly, and Lancelot snorted with laughter. She was guided from the bed, sticky and messy and feeling like death. The walk seemed to take forever, and even when she reached the bath, she realised that the water was cold.

‘Fancy a little Magic?’ Lancelot prompted, and Merlin focused just long enough to warm up the water. Then fingers moved to her bindings, waiting until she moved her hair out of the way to begin to undo them.

‘I’ll keep my eyes averted.’ For some reason, disappointment washed over her, but Merlin hid it well.

‘You don’t need to. It’s not like you’d ever…’ She halted, quickly deciding it was a lot better to just take her bath. Lancelot’s hands faltered, before they continued to strip off the bindings. Once they were gone, Merlin reached for her hips and shimmied out of the last bit of clothing.

The water was hot, steaming up as she stepped into it and settled down.

‘Do you want to talk about it?’ Lancelot eventually asked, perching on the edge of the bed and looking at her. Merlin winced, ducking lower into the warmth.

‘Not really.’

‘Arthur’s worried about you. We all are.’ Getting drunk had been a mistake. As much as her magic was pleased with the decision, with the chance to show off, the rest of her hated it.

‘I’m fi…’

‘Don’t finish that.’ Why did they care so much? She was nothing but a bother to them, always getting into trouble.

‘I don’t know what’s going on.’ Merlin eventually said, surprised by the way her voice wobbled. Her lip trembled, and when she dared to look up, her eyes were beginning to water.

‘Oh Merlin,’ Lancelot moved to the edge of the bath, kneeling down by it, ‘why can’t you see how much we care?’ Frustration bubbled up in her, but she didn’t know how to deal with it.

‘I don’t want your sympathy!’ She snapped, and Lancelot looked as angry as she felt.

‘We’re not pitying you, Merlin, we’re worried!’

‘I’m not a child!’ Lancelot basically growled, a sound so strange that she would have pointed it out, how Lancelot not cupped the side of her face and kissed her.

This was her second kiss in two days, but it was a lot harsher than Gwaine’s. Basically the opposite of what she thought Lancelot would be like, but she wasn’t complaining, because she wanted this to happen. She wanted Lancelot, just as she wanted Gwaine, just as she wanted all of them. If that made her different, or any of the crude words she could imagine people using, then she didn’t care.

The thing was, like Gwaine, Lancelot would never have kissed her if he didn’t feel something.

Fingers gripped her wet hair, while she gripped Lancelot’s shirt like it would somehow hold him close forever, like she could pretend that everything was okay. When she reluctantly moved away to breathe, Lancelot let his forehead rest against hers.

‘We want you. I want you. No, scratch that, I need you.’ Nothing in his eyes indicated a lie, nothing made her want to hide. Instead, she moved forward in the bath, sloshing the water around.

‘Join me?’

‘Merlin…’

‘Please?’ Lancelot only hesitated for a moment, before standing up and stripping off his shirt. She kept her eyes on the water, quite unsure where the confidence had come from, but not regretting it. Lancelot settled behind her, allowing Merlin to slowly move back until she was pressed against him.

‘I don’t know if I’m worthy of your attention.’

‘You are.’ No argument, no way of dissuading him.

‘The others…’

‘Will agree with me.’ Merlin laughed, just briefly, before letting herself get lulled back into the warmth he offered. An arm settled on the ridge of the bath, fingers stroking along her skin gently.

It was nice. Lancelot was one of her closest friends, the one she’d trusted for the longest, and now… there was nothing between them.

**

‘Do I want to ask why?’ Gwen gently inquired, while Merlin hesitated. She wasn’t sure why she had come to Gwen and Morgana, what exactly had prompted this change. Perhaps it was because of her bath with Lancelot, or the way the man had brushed her hair afterwards, like it was a fascinating thing. The new emotions that Lancelot knew she had, but she wasn’t being judged for. She was allowed to want to kiss him, to want to be close to him.

‘I think it would suit me.’ Gwen’s colour was red, while Morgana had green.

Merlin studied the blue, watching as Gwen tightened the strings. It settled against her form, and for once, Merlin thought a dress might suit her. It didn’t hug her form like Morgana’s did, didn’t dip low like Gwen sometimes wore.

It was pretty, the colour of the sky, and Merlin clutched at the skirts for a moment.

‘Can I give you some advice?’ Gwen asked, placing the neckerchief around Merlin’s head so that it would hold it back, rather than tying it up.

‘I always value your advice.’ Merlin pointed out, to which her friend laughed.

‘Go for it. Arthur’s been pining for years, and the other Knights won’t dare step out of line until he has.’ Merlin wanted to try and deny her feelings, to hide the fact that she wanted Arthur and the Knights’ attention. But this was coming from Gwen, the woman in love with Morgana, and the two of them knew exactly what it was like to love outside of the norm of Camelot.

‘How?’ She asked, studying her reflection and wondering just how different she looked from the Merlin that had first challenged Arthur.

‘Be you.’ Gwen stated, like it was the simplest thing in the world.

**

Today, Camelot had blessed her with good weather. The sun was shining, and the Knights of Camelot were labouring in the training field, which left Merlin to be delighted. She moved across the grass, humming a tune under her breath as she moved, clutching the plate of pastries she had procured from the cook.

Arthur was currently sparring with Lancelot, the two relatively equally matched as they practiced. Gwaine appeared to be napping, while Percival and Elyan were both admiring the different weapons that George had brought out this morning.

That left Sir Leon, who spotted her just as she rounded the tent. His eyes widened, but the smile was genuine, so she returned it while offering out the plate.

‘I bring snacks.’

‘Right on time.’ He joked, sneaking one into his mouth and immediately getting it all around his mouth. Merlin laughed, which woke Gwaine from his nap, the Knight focusing on the food.

‘Hungry.’ He muttered, scrambling up to claim some of the treats.

Eventually, Arthur spotted her. For the smallest of moments, Merlin feared she’d made a mistake with the dress, but then the King was smiling like it was any other day.

‘You brought food.’

‘You’re always hungry.’ She pointed out, dotingly handing Gwaine a second pastry. Rather than taking it, he bit it from her fingers, eyes flicking to hers as he did so. She waited patiently for him to finish it, before looking to the flakes left on her fingers.

Well, if they were going to play this game, she could match them. As casually as she could manage (which wasn’t very, her heart felt like it was about to burst), Merlin licked each of her fingers clean, before turning her attention away from the six variants on shock and looking to the other Knights.

‘Sir Peter and Aaron are improving quickly.’ Merlin had been at training long enough to know that Knights competed amongst each other. Peter and Aaron were younger Knights, but they were prospering under the attention from the King.

Like they’d heard her, both turned across. She didn’t miss the slight blush, nor the way Aaron waved before Peter hit his arm. Merlin waved back, then glanced to where Arthur was frowning.

‘You look like you’re about to commit murder.’ She joked, while realising that Percival’s attention was on the neckerchief in her hair.

‘Of course not.’ He grumbled, but from the way his eyes flashed with anger, she knew better than to believe him.

‘Whatever you say, Arthur.’ Teasing was fun, and Merlin went to walk back, when Percival spoke up.

‘I like your hair today, Merlin.’ The large Knight rarely spoke, and when he did, it was comforting. The compliment was nice, even if the other Knights looked amused.

Merlin beamed, having to go on her tip toes (despite her height) to press a kiss to his cheek.

‘Thank you, Sir Percival.’ And with that, Merlin went back to her day, wondering where the surge of confidence had come from.

**

‘You look ready to lick the sweat off of them.’

‘Morgana!’ Merlin squeaked, aware that her shriek had drawn the attention of the men scrapping in the grass. Training had turned into lazy practice, into a competition of who could show off the most. The citizens of Camelot came and went, occasionally pausing to watch the Knights fight. Merlin didn’t purposefully choose this spot, of course, she just so happened to have a perfect view.

‘What? I would, if I were you.’ Merlin ignored her, mostly because her stomach was in knots just thinking about it. She glanced over to them, felt her embarrassment double when she realised that most were smirking.

‘They are Knights of Camelot.’ She turned her nose up along with her words, like it made everything better. Morgana perched down by her side, snatching up one of her hands and holding it. It felt nice, a comfort that she remembered from that night.

‘That means they’ve got good stamina.’ Choking seemed the only effective way to expel air rapidly, Morgana sympathetically patting her on the back.

‘I’m not… they’re not…’ She stumbled over her words, trying to wrap her mind around the fact that both Guinevere and Morgana had somehow figured her out.

‘I know. But you could do with a little fun, and I bet they’d know how to take care of you.’ From the lewd wink at the end of the sentence, Merlin got what she was hinting at. The thought was one that kept popping up, what would it be like?

Her experiences were limited, and painful, so she didn’t think that was accurate. Maids chattered about how it could be uncomfortable the first time, but then there were also whispers about some skilled lovers.

‘There’s six of them.’ Merlin pointed out indignantly, while Morgana’s smile grew dangerously wicked.

‘And you’re the greatest Witch to walk the earth. I’m sure you can use your imagination.’ That didn’t help her at all, just made her more confused, so she looked to her fellow Witch and waited for an explanation.

Morgana paused, glancing around like she was worried of being overheard, before her gaze fell back to Merlin.

‘Sometimes, I use my Magic on Gwen.’ Merlin was going to point out that there was nothing risky about that, Merlin had used her Magic on the Knights before.

It took her a moment to understand what Morgana was getting at, and when she did…

‘That works?!’ She hissed under her breath, while the Lady chuckled.

‘Very well. And on myself, if…’

‘Okay, okay. I get the idea.’ Merlin did not need to hear about such things, she already had to deal with Gwen going into detail.

Morgana’s cackle drew the attention of the Knights, who were beginning to wander across. Merlin was still trying to get her head around the idea of using her Magic for such a thing, had never even considered…

‘What have you said to Merlin to get her blushing?’ Arthur questioned, blond hair slick to his face but a healthy flush to his skin.

‘Just a little trick, Witch to Witch. Nothing to concern yourself with, brother dear.’ Morgana released Merlin’s hand, bending down to kiss her on the cheek. Merlin tilted into it, grateful for the affection, before watching as the High Priestess moved back towards the Castle.

‘Anything interesting?’ Lancelot asked her, to which Merlin halted.

‘Herbs. I… I’m going to collect herbs.’ With that, she promptly picked herself up and hurried away, both eager and hesitant to try out Morgana’s advice.


	14. Practice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of smutty stuff to begin with, before some wholesome Morgana/Merlin bonding time

She knew the basics. Her hand was hesitant, tracked over skin that had healed of bruises, before pausing. A flood of memories tried to burst, of times she really didn’t want to remember, but Merlin forced herself to relax. This was just her, in her bed, with Gaius out on his rounds. She was alone, and let her fingers reached for the hem of the dress, lifting it slightly.

Arthur had agreed to buy her a new wardrobe, had given her a set of rooms that suited her position as Court Sorceress. But, when she needed to feel safe, she still came back to the room that had housed her throughout her time in Camelot.

Thoughts of her new room led to Arthur, which led to the Knights. It was a topic she could imagine perfectly, remembering the day at the lake, watching with sneaky glances as they played around.

Morgana had suggested using her Magic, and Merlin had to admit, the thought was an intriguing one. She’d always been able to act intuitively, her magic had a mind of its own, so she slowly relaxed back onto the bed and waited to see what exactly it would choose to do.

It started as a warmth against her lips, remembering how Gwaine had kissed her so gently, how Lancelot had snatched the breath from her lungs like he needed it to survive. It had felt good, better than she’d ever imagined, and it always left her wanting more. More kissing, more of whatever they would give her, because she trusted them explicitly.

She wondered what the others would be like, whether they’d treat her like glass, or kiss her properly. Leon was the hardest to imagine, he was a noble-born Knight, why would he ever have interest in her?

Her Magic didn’t like the negativity, apparently, because it trailed away from her lips, moving on to her neck. The dress suddenly felt too constricting, like it was tightening around her chest. She regretted the bindings beneath it, wanted to know what it was like to actually _be_ with one of them. All the stories she’d heard, the whispers from Gwen and other maids, it sounded like it was enjoyable.

Shaking fingers reached for the cord at the top of the dress, untying it and pulling it down to the bindings. Her magic took over, loosening them until she could lower the clothing to her waist. If anyone walked in now… she was glad that the door was locked, because she would never recover from the shame.

That strange feeling came back, the one where her stomach tightened up, and Merlin let her fingers push aside smallclothes.

Lancelot had bathed with her, she’d woken up pressed against Gwaine, those memories had brought the same warmth. Thoughts drifted to Arthur, waking him up in the morning and watching as he dragged himself from bed, uncaring of the fact he was just in smallclothes. She’d seen almost all of the Knights unclothed at some point, it was just a side effect of her job, but it did have the benefit of being a good sight to look at.

Magic moved over her bare chest, warmth that heightened as it wrapped around her breasts. Merlin figured that this was going to be her chance, moved her fingers further and gasped when her body jolted. Spreading her thighs open, the Witch let her eyes shut, imagined what it would be like if it was someone else’s fingers.

Gwaine had talked about doing this on multiple occasions (with multiple women), and Merlin imagined what it would be like if it was his hand between her legs. Thicker fingers, she presumed, pressing a third against her core and shuddering at the sensation. Morgana had been right, this was a definite way to spend her time, especially after watching the Knights scrapping.

Before she’d even realised what she was doing, her hips were moving up to her hand while her magic started moving down. Could she do this when she was with them? Would her magic manage to control itself, if the chance to be with the Knights came up? She wondered how she’d act, if she’d be brave enough to show herself like this, to feel what she hoped was pleasure.

Strangely, the next feeling was frustration. It bubbled up, the more her fingers moved, not quite enough to tip her over but too much to just let go. She pushed her magic further, brought her knees up and tilted her hips invitingly, but it hung just out of reach.

It ended with her slumping down on the bed, a flushed, sweaty mess. Her stomach burned with a desire, but she didn’t know how best to deal with it.

Dressing was harder than it had been to get rid of the clothing. Her bindings itched at her chest, rubbed up as she lowered her skirts. She washed her hands in the basin, before looking to the door.

Walking through Camelot was difficult, she felt like everyone was more than aware of what she’d just done. She reached the Castle without a single person stopping her, made it through the corridors and then rounded a corner, only to bump into…

‘Merlin!’

‘Oh, sorry! Sorry.’ She stepped back, Gwaine steadying her before his head cocked to the side.

‘How did herb collecting go?’

‘Herbs? Oh, right, I…’ Gwaine’s smirk grew, while Merlin stuttered out that it had been fine.

‘Sure? You look awfully flushed.’ She knew it! Merlin was going to curse Morgana when she found the other Witch, her help had been… unhelpful.

‘It was a long walk.’ She offered out, while the Knight studied her for a moment longer.

‘Well, me and the Knights figured we’d have a drink tonight in the Princess’s Chambers, you joining?’ A room full of the undeniably hottest men in Camelot, drinking casually, and she was invited? Oh, her mind flashed to multiple scenarios that were totally not appropriate for public thinking.

Merlin realised she hadn't actually replied, had just been staring at Gwaine with what she presumed was a dreamy expression, so she cleared her throat.

‘Yeah, I’ll join. I need to find Morgana, but after that…’ Gwaine smiled, his hand coming to rest on her shoulder. Just that one touch was enough to have Merlin’s heart skipping, watching as the Knight grinned.

‘See you there.’

She really did need to find Morgana.

**

Morgana could tell the moment Merlin came rushing in that the girl had been unsuccessful. The Witch sighed, studying her younger friend as she came walking across, still dressed in the pretty blue gown. It suited her, more than anyone was actually going to say.

‘Nothing compares to the real thing.’ Morgana offered, before Merlin even had the chance to speak. The younger blushed, ducking her head away but also looking strangely pleased. Morgana was reminded that the girl had been raised in a very boyish way, wasn’t used to having a female presence like Morgana was.

‘Arthur’s having drinks with the Knights tonight.’ She knew this already, of course. Nothing happened in Camelot without Morgana being aware of it, which was why she had already planned this afternoon out.

‘So, we should get started with your new room, and then pick an outfit.’ Gwen had been trying to convince Merlin to move into her new Chambers for a while, but Morgana suspected it was something to do with feeling safe.

‘My new room?’ Morgana grinned, rubbing her hands together while aiming for her best look of excitement.

‘Shopping time.’

**

Merlin’s arms hurt. She flopped down onto the bed, laughing as Morgana did the same, the two of them looking around the room. It had been hours since Morgana first convinced her to go to the market, and they’d come back with more stuff than Merlin had ever seen in her life. New blankets, some books to fill the shelves. A couple of plants, which Merlin had picked out specifically, and she finally had looked through her new wardrobe.

It was clear that Morgana had been the one to order her clothing, the nicest gowns and some impressively-tailored trousers. Merlin looked over at the other Witch, found Morgana watching her with an unreadable expression.

‘What is it?’ Merlin questioned, rolling over onto her side so she could see her better.

‘I know we laugh and joke a lot, but if you ever need to talk about what happened…’ Merlin’s instinct was to run, to shut down before Morgana could see how terrified she was of that night. Had they told Morgana about the incident with the Unicorn? The very thought of it was enough for any of the arousal from earlier being squashed. It left her feeling empty, hollow, even as she tried to smile.

‘I don’t… I only remember it in dreams. When… it happened, I just… floated.’ That seemed the most accurate description of what had happened, floating away rather than paying attention. Morgana nodded, reaching out to take her hand.

‘You know they’d understand, if you wanted to talk about it.’ She couldn’t imagine talking to Arthur about it, nor Elyan. Maybe Sir Leon would understand, he was quiet and thoughtful, much like Percival. Gwaine would get angry, and Lancelot…

Lancelot already knew what had happened. He’d cleaned her up, washing away the evidence of what had happened.

‘I might try, I just don’t want to ruin the evening.’

‘You won’t.’ Morgana promised, settling to stare up at the ceiling. Merlin copied her lead, deciding that tonight, she would try and sort everything out.


	15. Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The evening comes, and Merlin gets some kisses

‘Evening.’ She swanned into the room bearing gifts of alcohol and sugared fruits, watching as heads shot up to her. There was a burst of confidence that came with the way they looked at her, the shock that they quickly covered up.

‘Glad to see the King’s coin being used on something…’

‘Delicious.’ Gwaine finished Elyan’s sentence, winking at Merlin as she placed down the tray.

She’d opted for a pair of tailored trousers, and a blue tunic with a belt to keep it snugly around her waist. Leaving her hair down had been a fifty-fifty decision, but she was thankful for it now, taking a goblet of wine and moving towards the chairs.

‘Better than your alcohol habits.’ She teased, hopping onto the seat between Gwaine and Lancelot. The rebellious Knight patted his lap invitingly, so she swung her legs up.

‘Comfy yet?’ Lancelot joked, while Merlin just shrugged and leant back against him.

‘Yup.’

‘We were just discussing the festivities next week.’ Conversation picked up, while Merlin occupied her time braiding Gwaine’s hair. He occasionally would tilt his head into the touch, at other times just smiling fondly while feeding her wine.

She’d spent the day wondering how this would go, but she hadn't thought about the fact that she naturally suited the group. Even as a female, they didn’t shy away from using language that they’d never dream of with any other woman.

‘I’m calling you out. No way can you be graceful, with feet the size of mountains!’ Gwaine protested, while Percival shrugged.

‘I’m a natural dancer.’ Merlin could see it, he had a way of fighting that was rather smooth, despite his size.

‘Bullshit.’

‘Language.’ Merlin snorted, gulping another large mouthful of wine.

‘If Gwaine doesn’t believe you, I think you should challenge.’ Lancelot’s suggestion was met with laughter, Arthur sighing like he couldn’t quite believe he’d made friends with the group, and Percival smiling. He rose up out of his chair, while Gwaine decided whether he was going to rise to the challenge.

Merlin moved her legs off of his lap, allowing Gwaine to stand up. A little touch of Magic, just enough to start some music in the background, which amused the group.

‘I hate you.’ Gwaine stated, but he did reluctantly place a hand on Percival’s shoulder.

‘Trust Gwaine to be the girl.’ Arthur’s attempts at mocking didn’t deter Gwaine from following Percival’s lead, even if he looked annoyed. It was funny, Merlin giggling as Gwaine tried to keep up.

‘I make a brilliant girl, Princess.’

‘I’d pay to see you in a corset.’ Merlin had to agree with Leon, it would be a funny sight.

‘Okay okay, you’re an alright dancer.’ Gwaine returned to his seat, before Percival’s attention turned away from the Knight. Merlin startled when Percival focused on her, watched as his hand extended.

At the feast next week, Merlin would be the Court Sorceress, expected to be by Arthur’s side when the nobles walked around. She did know how to dance, although nobody had ever actually asked her to.

She accepted Percival’s hand, letting Gwaine take the goblet of wine from her as she rose up. Merlin was tall, could stand almost level with most of the Knights, but compared to Percival, she was tiny. Her hand came to rest on his shoulder, the other linking with his, while a large palm settled on her hip.

It didn’t terrify her. There wasn’t an ounce of fear as she was pulled closer to Percival, nothing other than a warmth that blossomed in her stomach. Dancing was simple, following his lead as they rocked together. Her feet were tiny compared to his, copying his movements while her Magic let the music guide them.

The others might have been talking, chatting away while she let her eyes shut. The hand moved to her lower back, fingers spreading wide and keeping her close.

When the music stopped, Merlin had to force herself to step back, returning to her position by Gwaine’s side. He was watching her with a funny expression, studying her rather intently.

‘What?’

‘Your eyes are still golden.’ Oh, she ducked away and tried to tamp the Magic down, but Gwaine caught her chin.

Just like the first time, Gwaine’s kiss was soft. Hesitant, like he feared she’d reject him, but Merlin had no intention of doing so. He kept hold of her chin right until the moment she pulled back, taking note of his wide eyes and the smirk that she had come to love.

‘Are we interrupting?’ Arthur’s voice had something in it, something that Merlin identified as envy.

‘Jealous?’ She shot back, much to everyone’s shock. She met the King’s gaze, giving him the choice on how to answer.

‘And if I am?’ Strangely, she didn’t feel nervous. It was Arthur, the golden-Prince that had been her destiny, her other half. She knew that they could never truly hate each other, in fact, it was much closer to the opposite.

She rose up carefully, trying to judge if her advance was welcome. Arthur leant back in his chair, spread his legs slightly in a comfortable position, more than open for her to come and settle on his lap.

This was Arthur, King of Camelot, and Merlin was straddling his lap. She’d been close to him before, obviously, but this was different. There was no space between them, especially not when Arthur’s hand settled on the back of her thigh, guiding her to move closer.

The Knights had waited for Arthur’s approval, and this was surely him giving it?

She waited, lips almost touching, not quite daring to close the gap. His eyes stayed on hers, bright blue showing so many emotions that she couldn’t ever hope to comprehend.

Then his face was tilting, and Merlin could lean down to kiss him. Nothing more than a press of lips, before fingers tangled into her hair and guided her head to stay close, deepening the kiss. He tasted of wine and of the sugared fruits she’d brought, a faint undertone of a minty flavour that she kissed away.

Merlin realised, rather belatedly, that as the kiss deepened, her body had arched into the touch. Her hips were now pressed firmly over his thighs, fingers messing up that perfect golden hair while she looked at the flush over his cheeks.

‘It would be rude of me not to share.’ Arthur drawled lowly, fingers tracking along her thigh in a way that made her shudder.

Right, they most definitely were not alone. Merlin sat back, glancing over her shoulder to find that the Knights were watching. Gwaine and Lancelot both looked proud, while the others were watching her with dark eyes.

‘Elyan’s been waiting patiently.’ Arthur commented in her ear, voice dangerously low. She was rather concerned that her feet wouldn’t hold her, but they did, and she moved across to where Elyan was seated.

He was more than happy to have her, sitting up in his seat and guiding her into his lap. Like Arthur, he was comfy to rest on, but a lot more eager to kiss her. Both hands steadied on her thighs, hot even through the fabric, and Merlin sighed when a tongue brushed over her lower lip.

Reluctantly, Merlin pulled back, licking her lips as she did so. Elyan smiled softly, before her attention turned to Percival.

He was the youngest of the six, the quietest of the group, but she hoped he wouldn’t mind her advances. He welcomed her onto his lap, sitting rather than straddling, his fingers running through the strands of her hair. Gentle, soft kisses onto her cheeks and then to her lips, so very careful in their placement.

Merlin had expected the Knights to kiss as they fought. Aggressive, bold, and no room for patience. Instead, six men managed to take their time, each perfectly content with allowing Merlin to spend some time with them individually.

Sir Leon’s patience was phenomenal. Apart from the fact his finger was twitching against his thigh, he gave no signs of being impatient. She snatched the wine from his free hand, settled onto his lap and taking a gulp of it.

‘Stealing my wine?’ He teased, so Merlin took another mouthful, bringing her lips to his. He responded with enthusiasm, lips parting and gulping down the sweet liquid without hesitation. Even once the wine had been swallowed, his tongue brushed over her lips to steal the last taste, and Merlin gasped when a hand slid down to her arse.

‘Leon…’ Arthur warned, but the Knight paid no attention to the King, biting at her lip and encouraging her to rock against him.

When he did release her lips, she was left with an ache between her thighs, and a heaving chest.

‘Well, that was eventful.’ Gwaine cheerfully announced, and Merlin laughed.

**

The rest of the evening passed with drinking and laughter, the Knights more than happy to steal kisses when Merlin settled with them. The Witch figured this was progress, getting more and more comfortable in their company. It wasn’t complicated, nobody tried to fight over her attention, nor did anyone judge her for the fact that she wanted the six of them.

Only one thing bothered her, the reminder that she would eventually want to give in to her stomach, to lay with them. But how could she, with everything that had happened? Would they understand her fears, the fact she still woke up after nightmares of the events?

Merlin stayed quiet, thinking about what Morgana had told her. Telling them seemed like a logical choice, but she didn’t know how to bring it up, or if they’d want to hear it.

So, she settled for tucking herself under Lancelot’s arm. Just for tonight, she didn’t want to ruin the mood.


	16. Challenges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're moving on with plot my dudes

She had hoped that the kisses would lead to peace. Unfortunately, Camelot continued to be a bustling city, and it wasn’t long until a new problem emerged for the Court Sorceress of Camelot.

‘You’ll be fine.’ Arthur soothed, while Merlin tried her best to keep a smile on her face. This entire idea was a bad one, she wanted to stay by Arthur’s side, but he was trusting her.

‘Keep in touch every evening.’ She requested, pleaded, glancing across to where Morgana and Gwen were mounting their horses.

Queen Mithian had requested Arthur and Morgana’s presence, for some sort of assistance at her Court. As allies, they had decided to go, with the Round Table Knights to protect them.

The highest ranking noble protected Camelot in the King’s absence. That was usually Morgana, as the King’s sister, or Sir Leon occasionally if he was still in Camelot. It was too risky to ask one of the Lords to protect the Castle, they could try and take the crown, so Arthur had turned to her.

She had a title, which meant that she was staying behind to keep Camelot safe in Arthur’s absence.

‘We will. Any issues, then Sir Callum…’ Arthur had wanted to leave one of the Round Table Knights behind, but Merlin had been insistent that she could manage. She wanted the King safe, which meant he should have his closest friends with him.

Sir Callum was one of Arthur’s Knights, and the man assigned to keep Merlin safe while she protected Camelot.

‘I’ll be fine, Arthur.’ She promised, glancing to the Knight. He bowed his head, hands behind his back as he stood perfectly still, the image of the respectable Knight.

‘We’ll be back by the end of the week.’

**

‘Court in session.’ Merlin watched the Round Table take their seats, before she slowly sat back onto the throne. It felt wrong, this shouldn’t be her spot, but she settled down anyway. Arthur was trusting her to keep his Kingdom safe, and as Arthur’s loyal servant, she would perform this job to the best of her abilities.

Morgana would be proud of the way she held herself, Gwen would give comforting smiles as Merlin turned her attention to those in the room. Knights and nobles, advisors and her Uncle Gaius, a familiar face in the sea of people.

‘The first item on today’s agenda…’ Sir Callum gave her a quick smile to reassure, before turning his attention back to the Knights.

Merlin sighed, preparing herself for a very long day of arrogant nobles and contradicting opinions.

**

‘Why is she even in charge? She’s nothing more than a servant!’ After a full day of arguing, she could understand why people were tense. It was a stressful time, with people trying to gain her favour to try and advance themselves. When they realised that she was no more likely to listen to them than Arthur was, they quickly became annoyed.

Well, not all of them. Some respected her, looked at her in shock when she stood up for herself, but others just glared.

As the advisor spoke, one of Uther’s men, his words had several reactions. Gaius instantly jumped to her defence, as did many of the others, and Sir Callum rose up like he would fight for her honour. It was what a Knight would do, challenge someone to a duel over honour, but Merlin did not need defending.

She rose up, channelling her inner-Leon with the expression she settled for.

‘Perhaps you would like to make that an official challenge, Sir Eton?’ Callum was tense, hand hovering over the pommel of his sword, while the Eton tried to decide whether or not to continue.

Clearly, he decided to call her bluff.

‘I will, Lady Merlin.’

Ah, Arthur had specifically told her to stay out of trouble.

Did challenging one of his advisors to a duel count?

**

‘My Lady, let me fight in your name!’ Callum protested, looking like he sincerely regretted being put on babysitting duty.

She did feel bad for him, but it could be worse. The weather was lovely, the sun shining as people gathered on the field to witness the challenge. It had been two days since Arthur had left, which meant he should be arriving at Nemeth soon. That meant the fire connection would work, so Merlin could talk to him and assure him that his Kingdom hadn't crumbled yet.

‘I am quite capable of fighting for myself, Sir Callum.’ Merlin knew roughly how to use a sword. She’d been at training for eight years now, watching and listening and learning. Gwaine had been teaching her how to handle daggers, so she was pretty comfortable with fighting an advisor that was clearly retired from the field.

‘The King insisted…’ Bless him, he was so terrified of Arthur’s opinion.

‘Arthur’s protective, but I can promise you, I’ll be fine.’ He studied her for a moment, cocking his head to the side before he smiled.

‘You’re quite impressive, my Lady.’ She snorted, rolling up the sleeves of her tunic before tying her hair back with a neckerchief.

‘Wait till I win this.’

Sword-fighting was difficult. Her arms always protested if she used a sword for too long, so she had to settle for using a quick-paced fight to win. Still, she chose a lighter blade, squared up against Sir Eton and grinned when he looked at her with slight hesitation.

He swung first. Merlin dodged the first blow, then brought the sword up to meet his stance. She didn’t have the same strength that he might, so she chose to fight defensively to begin with, parrying hits until she saw an opportunity.

It came in the form of Sir Eton trying to lunge for her, while Merlin feinted left. Gwaine’s trick, the one to disarm an opponent, was one she had practiced on multiple occasions, so she opted for that. Their swords met, clashing loudly as she brought it up and over, flicking her wrist and watching as his sword was lost to the grass.

She pressed her sword to his chest, along the line of his collarbone, and smirked.

‘Are we settled?’ He studied her, then glanced to the sword she was still pressing to him.

‘We’re settled, my Lady.’

**

Merlin sighed, kicking open the door to her Chambers and dragging her feet in. She was tired, aching all over and in desperate need of a massage. She grumbled, unbuckling her belt and letting the sword fall to the floor.

‘Merlin!’ She squeaked, jumping out of her skin as she turned to the fire, then relaxed when she saw Arthur’s face flickering in the flames.

‘Arthur, you scared me!’ He laughed, before disappearing to the side to reveal the rest of the room. They were clearly in Nemeth, the room was very lavishly furnished, and she caught sight of the other Knights. No signs of Gwen or Morgana, but she presumed they were in their own Chambers.

‘How’s Camelot?’ Arthur looked worried for the briefest of moments, while Merlin pondered over the answer.

‘Still standing. How was your journey? Did you run into trouble?’ She unlaced her boots, taking them off and padding over to the furs in front of the fire. A quick glance to the table, focusing on the goblet of wine and floating it over in her direction, she settled down.

‘It was rather boring really.’

‘And Gwaine wouldn’t shut up.’ She laughed, pouring herself a generous helping and swallowing it down while watching them all fight for fire space.

‘How was court?’ Leon asked, rather sympathetically, like he could tell how it had gone. She rolled her eyes, kicking her legs out and wriggling her toes.

‘Dull. A couple of nobles wanting money, the usual.’ Merlin decided she’d had a difficult day, and deserved to relax. She reached under the tunic, found the tie of her bandages and began to undo them, pulling them out from under her shirt.

‘Strip-tease?’ Gwaine asked, Merlin snorting.

‘I’m a sweaty mess, definitely not attractive.’

‘I’d disagree.’ Gwaine’s flirting was comforting, but Lancelot had picked up on her words.

‘Sweaty?’

‘There was a small disagreement.’ She admitted, watched as six concerned men turned to her.

‘Merlin.’ Arthur warned, and the Sorceress sighed.

‘One of your advisors challenged me to a duel.’

‘They did what?!’ He snapped.

‘Did you win?’ Elyan asked, earning him several glares from the others. Merlin laughed, nodding.

‘Yeah, used Gwaine’s trick to disarm him.’

‘That’s my girl!’ She had to admit, when Gwaine called her that, it made her very happy. She blushed, finished taking the binder off and slumped down onto her back.

‘I miss you guys. Don’t be away for too long.’

‘We won’t.’ Arthur promised, and Merlin let her eyes flutter shut.

By the time she glanced back to the fire, it was nothing more than orange flames.


	17. Warning Bells

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin's learning how hard it is to be a Ruler

There was nothing worse in Camelot than hearing the warning bells. Usually, it meant Merlin needed to get to Arthur. No matter where he was, no matter how far she was from him, she had to make it to him. But, with Arthur safe in Nemeth, Merlin didn’t need to do that.

It took her a little while to remember that, however. She made it half-way before she remembered that, halting mid-stride and realising that it was on her shoulders to defend Camelot.

She found Callum first, barking orders to the younger Knights.

‘My Lady…’

‘Where?’ She demanded, following him through the corridors.

‘A breach of the eastern wall, two guards found dead in the dungeons. We think they were heading for the King, but now they’ve managed to board themselves into one of the Village houses.’ Merlin was going to be in so much trouble when Arthur returned, it had only been five days since they left! She reached the armoury, found the Knights ready and awaiting her orders. Some looked slightly hesitant to trust, like they would prefer a King, but she couldn’t worry about that now.

‘Surround the house, get the civilians away from the fight.’

‘And the hostages?’ One of the Knights questioned, while Merlin reached for a sword.

‘I’ll handle the hostages.’

**

She hadn't expected an audience. It was an hour before dawn, pinks and oranges beginning to tint the sky as the Knights flooded out to the household, blocking them from escaping. Inside, they had a count of four male assailants, with three hostages. Two children and a mother, which explained why Camelot’s people had come to see what was happening.

‘Your orders, milady?’ Sir Callum had his sword drawn, stood by her side anxiously as she studied the building.

‘Catch the ones that run.’ She answered, before stepping towards the building. She reached the door, knocking twice and then pausing.

‘My name is Merlin, the person currently in charge of Camelot. Would you like to open the door? I can assure you, it’s just me.’ She waited, knowing that they would be panicking, that they just wanted to escape.

The door unlocked, and Merlin stepped inside. In an instant, a blade was pressed to her throat, and she got her first look at those that would have tried to kill Arthur.

They were dressed in dark armour, swords drawn and pointing towards the three people in the home.

Merlin didn’t have to hesitate now, her Magic taking over while she brought her knee up to the man’s groin. The door burst open, magic wrapping around the children and mother and pushing them out of the building.

The moment they were clear, she heard Callum give the order to advance. In came the Knights, rushing in ready to fight, only to halt when they saw the four crippled men.

‘This was too easy.’ Merlin stated, glancing warily to the unconscious men. Sir Callum nodded his head slowly, clearly unsure of the Magic she’d used, but waiting nonetheless for her command.

‘They’d need more than four men to scale the wall.’ One of the Knights spoke up, and as Merlin thought about his words, she realised that he had a point. It would take a minimum of five, and Merlin had made the mistake of believing that all the men had gone to the same house.

She reached for the first attacker, gripped the front of his shirt and dragged him upright, before sending a pulse of magic to wake him. His eyes flicked between Merlin and the Knights behind, before settling on her.

‘Where’s the fifth man?’ She snarled, watching as he smirked back at her.

‘You think you can protect your precious King forever?’ The mention of Arthur, in hindsight, should not have set her off. But she missed him, and worried that when he heard about this, she’d lose his trust. Combine that with the fact that Arthur might have died had he not been in Nemeth...

A flame sparked to life in her palm, burning dangerously close to his skin as the man tried to move away from it.

‘I would burn all of Albion for Arthur, so I’d watch your tongue.’ Maybe it was a bad thing to be so aggressive, but the man gulped audibly, before nodding to the door.

‘One more of us, out…’ A scream sounded, shouting from outside that had Merlin abandoning her current captive.

Running outside, she realised the issue immediately. The fifth man, the one that Arthur never would have forgotten, holding a child against his front as he backed away.

‘Stay back! Stay back, or I’ll kill her.’ A mother was crying, sobbing into the arms of another citizen, the whole of Camelot out to watch Merlin’s failure.

In that moment, Merlin’s patience snapped. The Knights were waiting behind her, the people of Camelot expecting her to have a solution, and a young child was crying as a knife was held to her throat. Merlin’s hand came up, slicing cleanly through the air as her Magic followed the movement, anger driving the energy forwards.

The man gasped, the knife falling from his hands as he dropped the child, his hands reaching for his throat. Merlin acted on instinct, grabbing the girl and pulling her away from the spray of blood that came from the man’s throat, despite then hands that were clutched over it. Slowly, he dropped to his knees, gasping for air while Merlin watched him drop.

People were cheering. The Knights started it, but the citizens were quick to adopt the applause, the child running over to her Mother that was thanking Merlin on repeat. The Witch turned, glancing to the men that had been apprehended, then back to the now-dead fifth attacker.

‘Have them sent to the dungeons on the grounds of treason.’

‘The trial, milady?’

‘Will be held at midday.’

For now, Merlin needed to be away from the blood.

**

She sobbed louder, rubbing at the fabric between her hands. It spilled red out into her bath, but she repeated the action regardless, determined not to leave a single trace of what had happened. Walking through the Castle, people had praised and cheered for her, even the nobles that had hated her just days before.

Gaius had pulled her in tightly, shutting the door when Merlin burst into tears the moment she saw him. Sefa had fetched the bath, and now she was slumped in the water while Gaius moved around behind, attempting to give her a sense of privacy.

‘You should call for Arthur.’ Gaius eventually broke the silence, while Merlin scrubbed at her face.

‘He’ll try and leave Nemeth.’

‘It might not be a bad thing.’ Five days, that was all she had managed before she let Camelot get the better of her. Why was she described as a King of her people, when she couldn’t even keep peace in Arthur’s kingdom?

‘I need to get ready for the trial.’ She murmured, hating the fact that she already knew the outcome. Treason only had one punishment, execution, usually by burning.

Merlin couldn’t send someone to the Pyre.

‘Oh, my girl…’ Gaius murmured softly, but Merlin ignored him.

She dried off, dressing in a pair of breeches and a loose-fitting shirt, making her way through the Castle. She had no more than a couple of hours before she needed to make her way to the throne room, but for now, she only had one destination.

Arthur’s Chambers were familiar, and from the moment she stepped in, her anxiety began to lessen. Kicking off her boots, she climbed up onto the bed and curled into the sheets, turning her nose to the pillow to breathe in deeply.

**

Sir Callum hesitated, looking to the fire, then back to the box. The King had specifically told him to protect Lady Merlin with his life, and if he needed to, he should call for the King’s help. Magic still terrified him, but Arthur had told him all he needed to do was throw the powder onto the fire, that it would connect him to the King instantly.

The thing was, Lady Merlin was doing perfectly well. She’d acted as a Queen would, with quick-thinking and a cold attitude, yet a good heart. Camelot’s nobles and advisors clearly approved of her, and the people were still cheering outside. Technically, there was no reason for Callum to call for the King.

Apart from the fact he’d seen the way her eyes welled up with tears, had heard her crying to Gaius when he went in search of her. While the Kingdom praised her, Merlin was shying away, fearful of what she’d had to do.

There was no way that she could avoid the trial. The four men had killed two Guards, caused numerous reports of damage, and had openly admitted to trying to kill the King. Arthur would have sentenced them to death immediately. Not many trials got this far, usually because attackers were killed during the fight, rather than at a trial.

He shut the box, turning away from the fire and moving out of the Chambers. He’d have to trust that Merlin would speak to Arthur later, and if she didn’t…

Entering the throne room was a shock, and not just because of the fact that the Council were already assembled. Merlin was perched back on the edge of the throne, looking slightly uncomfortable in it, but only because he had come to recognise the emotions in her eyes.

The rest of her expression was cold, hair braided back and her body dressed in light-fitting armour. Reds and golds, the colour of the Pendragon emblem, along with a sword at her side that somehow made her look every inch the Ruler of Camelot. It was strange, because she had specifically not chosen a dress, probably for fear of being accused of trying to be Queen. But rather than lessen that image, she’d heightened it.

Callum reached her side, watched as the Court rose, before Merlin turned her attention to the four prisoners.

‘Sir Callum, might you read out the offences of the accused?’ Yes, he thought with amusement, she was every inch a Queen.

**

Merlin didn’t want to kill them. Clearly, she had very little choice on that front, because the rules were clear. She couldn’t change them just because she felt like it, this was Arthur’s Kingdom, and his laws were what she abided by.

Unless…

The Court would probably disagree. In fact, this could go very badly, she thought. Rising up, Merlin had just a moment to decide if she could go through with it.

‘The Court finds you guilty of treason, for which the sentence is execution.’ Pleased faces amongst the nobles, terror on some of the servants. It would always be the upper classes that pushed for harsher sentencing, she thought, knowing that these four men had just been trying to rise up. The bounty for killing the King of Camelot would have been incredible.

‘On this, I waver the sentence.’ Silence, she could feel the moment that every head turned to her, utter confusion.

‘You will be banished from Camelot until death, with no chance of working off your sentence.’ The four men laughed in relief, went to thank her, but she held her hand up.

‘I’m not finished. You’ll also be placed under a curse, which will compel you to avoid the topic of Camelot at all costs. Should you try to speak of the Kingdom, or even think of it, the pain would be worse than death.’ The Druids would definitely disapprove of this use of Magic, while the Court just looked shocked.

The four men stayed silent, watching as she rose up.

‘It is that, or the Pyre.’

‘You’ve been most merciful, my Lady.’ One of them finally said, bowing low.

Merlin didn’t feel merciful, especially not as she moved to stand in front of them, concentrating on the spell she’d need to construct.

It wasn’t hard, she’d been practicing such control over animals for a while now, and once the spell was done, she looked to the Knights.

‘Take them to the border. The trial is over.’

Surprisingly, they still applauded to her as she moved back to the throne.


	18. Back in Camelot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin's waiting for the return of the Knights, Morgana and Gwen

_She smiled, rolled over and tilted her hips up towards the hand that was trailing down her stomach. He laughed at her bluntness, grinning as he toyed with the hem of her breeches._

_‘Stress-reliever?’ He questioned, inviting yet thrilling at the same time. Merlin sighed, answered by letting her thighs fall apart, her eyes flicking golden as she settled back._

_‘Merlin.’ She frowned, trying to figure out who exactly had called her name when a hand was moving between her thighs._

_‘Merlinnn.’_

**

She blinked back sleep, rose her head off of Arthur’s pillow and brushed aside the blankets she’d stolen from each of the Knights’ rooms, looking towards the fire.

The fire that revealed a very amused-looking King, and the Knights behind him. Merlin couldn’t even be bothered to care that she had just woken up, or she’d been caught in Arthur’s bed, because she was more concerned with the fact that she _missed_ them so damned much.

‘Guys!’ She rolled out of the bed sharpish, bare feet hitting the stone as she ran across to the fireplace, folding her limbs up when she reached so she could be closer to the flames.

‘Sir Callum called for us.’ Arthur began, trailing off to give her time to explain her mistakes.

‘I… I guess I’m just not as good…’

‘Apparently, all of Camelot are praising you.’ Arthur cut in, while Merlin blinked. It may be the fact she’d only just woken up, but Merlin could have sworn Arthur looked… proud. His smile seemed genuine, which confused her, so she hesitantly nodded.

‘I got the child back.’ She admitted, the King’s lips twitching.

‘And commanded the Knights, taking a trial and serving a verdict.’

‘Well it was mostly Callum, I just…’

‘First name basis? Should we be jealous?’ Gwaine’s tone was amused, rather than jealous, but Merlin noted that they weren’t giving her any chance to play down her actions.

Strangely, she liked it.

‘Oh yes, totally.’ She teased back, feeling smug when she heard them all chuckle.

‘So, we tried three fireplaces until we chose this one.’ Arthur gestured around, and Merlin blushed. Right, the fact that she was in Arthur’s Chambers, dressed in…

Oh Gods. She realised that, in reflection, going to bed in just one of Percival’s large shirts was probably not the best idea, especially not when she was sitting in front of her… boyfriends? Not-quite lovers?

‘I was just… cleaning?’ She tried lamely, which had Arthur laughing.

‘I’m not mad. It’s… cute.’ The King of Camelot, a man that never showed emotion, had just called her cute.

‘Screw Princess’s inability to talk, it’s hot.’ Gwaine winked at her, and Merlin rolled her eyes in response.

The conversation continued a little, chatting away about Nemeth and everything that had happened in the past days. Merlin listened to them argue and bicker, while curled up in front of the fire.

‘Mm, never thought I’d have the chance for a fireside striptease.’ Gwaine always had the ability to cheer her up, regardless of what happened. Like now, while Arthur was bickering with the others, leaving Gwaine and Merlin pressed close to the fire. She almost wanted to touch it, to see if it felt as warm.

‘In Percival’s shirt and nothing else? It wouldn’t be much of a tease.’ They both laughed, but Gwaine shrugged.

‘I’d find you attractive in anything.’ Really? She wanted to ask why, she clearly wasn’t anything like Gwen or Morgana, with beauty that outshone everybody else.

‘Thank you.’ She ducked her head, before noting that the fire was burning relatively low. Gwaine seemed to have noted it, if the slight sadness was anything to go by.

‘We’ll be home soon.’ He promised, while Merlin shrugged.

‘I’ll be waiting.’

**

She ran down the steps and launched herself at Leon, who caught her with a laugh. A kiss was placed to her temple, before she moved on to the next. Each of the Knights hugged her, Gwaine’s kiss placed at the corner of her mouth, before she turned to Morgana and Gwen.

Guinevere basically fell onto her, which Merlin responded to with just as much vigour. Their hug was joined by Morgana, and it lasted for a while before Arthur cleared his throat.

The King looked good, a little weary from the journey, but otherwise fine.

‘I see my Kingdom’s still standing.’ He joked, some of the nobles that had flocked to see their King’s arrival looking amused.

‘Just about.’ She responded, before hesitantly holding out her arms.

Arthur didn’t have the same worries, stepped close to her and tucked Merlin in under his chin like she belonged there.

The moment stretched, before she stepped back and beamed up at him.

‘I’ve had baths drawn in each of your rooms, and a dinner prepared for this evening in your Chambers.’ The Knights all looked thrilled at the idea of a proper bath, Gwaine slinging an arm around her shoulder cheerily.

‘You’re honestly my favourite.’ She laughed, leading them back to home.

**

Arthur leaned back in the bath, looking over to where Merlin was sorting through his pack. George had been kicked out the moment Arthur had got into the bath, the water steaming and bubbly thanks to her Magic. He took a moment to note that she’d changed the sheets, cleaned every inch of the room, including the fireplace.

She looked comfortable. At home, moving around his Chambers while humming under hear breath, looking stunning as always. Her breeches were tailored to fit her, a loose shirt with lacing at the front that hid the binder he occasionally caught a glimpse of.

‘You did well, Merlin.’ The compliment must have startled her, because she almost dropped the papers she was shuffling.

‘I… the wall was breached. And I… somebody died.’ He’d heard reports from his Knights already. They’d all wanted to praise Merlin, said that they were wrong to have judged her. That she had acted incredibly when faced with the pressure of someone attacking.

They also said they’d never seen a sorcerer that could use such a spell. Unwittingly, his mind flicked back to the night during the Hunt, when he’d watched Merlin’s Magic burst free. It had been terrifying, more because he feared it would also consume her.

‘You did what you had to do. I’m proud.’ Her eyes widened, before she smiled warmly at him. He then watched, mostly with amusement, as her eyes flickered down to the bathwater.

‘You can always join me.’ He said smugly, leaning back and lowering himself further into the water.

Sir Lancelot had admitted that he’d shared a bath with Merlin, before quickly explaining he’d kept his eyes firmly averted. Understandable, but Arthur was in no way strong enough to deny himself the pleasure of looking.

‘I… you… the others should be here soon.’ Morgana and Gwen would be in their Chambers till the evening, Arthur was sure of that. The Knights might come, he had invited them, but there were no issues with them seeing him in the bath. After all, they’d been hunting and bathed in lakes, so there were no issues with that.

The question was, did Merlin feel comfortable enough with them all seeing her?

‘It’s nice and warm.’ He offered, and Merlin very slowly nodded. She moved to the dresser, reaching for the hem of her shirt and lifting it off. The skin it revealed was milky white, with scars that he could see even from this distance.

The breeches came next, before she reached for her neckerchief and used it to tie her hair up. Then the binder, which she unwrapped and left with the other clothes. She had her back to him, and when her hands moved to the smallclothes, he did briefly look away.

She climbed in facing him, settled down and then thanked him quietly when he looked back to her. Suddenly, the bubbles were more annoying than nice, because it hid a view of anything he might have wanted to flick a gaze at.

‘Oooh, that’s nice.’ She sighed, settled further down and let her knees come up slightly, long limbs folding.

‘Sharing a bath with a sorcerer has its benefits.’ He teased, which made her laugh. She did look gorgeous when she laughed, especially when she thought she wasn’t being watched.

‘Were the baths in Nemeth that bad?’ She shot back, moving forward slightly to reach for the cloth. He watched as she lathered it up with soap, before gesturing for him to turn.

He stood up carefully, Merlin blushing a dark shade as she averted her eyes, before he settled back down with his back to her.

Gentle hands came to his shoulders, beginning to soothe in circular motions that he leaned back into.

‘I did miss you.’ She said quietly, fingers working into the muscle with a skill that was definitely Magic.

‘I’m back now. No need to sleep in my bed to remind yourself of me.’ The banter between them was the same as always, even if they’d never quite been this close.

‘It was just the mattress.’ She shot back, but they both knew it was more than that.

He was just glad to be back by her side.


	19. The truth about Emrys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A man comes to tell Emrys some bad news

The man had come from a different Kingdom, with news that only the King could hear. That very idea was ridiculous, and Arthur openly stated such a thing. Merlin rolled her eyes sneakily in Gwaine’s direction, clearly not sneakily enough, because the man straightened his back.

‘I would not be so quick to judge, Witch, because the news is about you’re supposed title.’ The slur was expected, even if not many would have dared to call her that. Arthur stood up from his throne, hand reaching for his sword, a movement that was copied by Gwaine and Lancelot.

‘Speak to a Lady of my Court like that again and I will have you thrown out of this Castle.’ Merlin smiled in Arthur’s direction, slightly pleased that he’d come to her defence. It was then that she took a moment to realise that most of the Court seemed to agree with him, glaring at the newcomer with hatred.

‘Is she not the bearer of the title Emrys?’ That name had never sat well with her, even if the Court knew it. Emrys was the name of the King of the Druids, a very different person from who Merlin was usually.

‘Anything you have to say about Emrys will be said with her present.’ Arthur took his seat, while Gwaine lingered for a moment longer. Eventually he sat down, glancing to Merlin in an attempt to comfort.

Truthfully, Merlin was more amused with the fact that Morgana was shooting him a look that might cause death, while Gwen looked ready to shout at him.

‘I fear it may be a thing that is hard for a weak-minded woman to hear.’ Oh, how original. Outrage from both Morgana and Guinevere, while Arthur’s gaze narrowed.

‘You’re treading close to a thin line.’ He warned, the man ignoring the warning and looking to Merlin.

‘What is this supposed information you bring about me?’ She questioned, aware that there was a niggling itch in the pit of her stomach that told her he wasn’t to be trusted. No, his words were truthful, but she wouldn’t like what she heard. What was he? A creature of Magic? He was no Druid, Merlin knew that, but she couldn’t figure out why she was wary of him.

‘It will likely cause the King to throw you from his bed, wench.’ The thing was, even if the words were aggressive, the tone was not. Arthur had beckoned forward Guards, while Percival was holding Gwaine down to the chair, the Court all demanding that he be silenced.

It was nice that they were trying to defend her, but Merlin did not need their defence. She ignored the oncoming guards, stood up and stalked towards the man, letting her eyes flash golden as she did so.

‘What do you know of Emrys?’ The closer she got, the worse her fear became. He genuinely did know something, she could see it in his eyes. There was a sliver of sympathy, an understanding that led her to the conclusion that he had been sent by the Old Religion. But how did he know of her?

‘Are you quite sure you’re willing to learn the truth?’ The Guards were clearly unsure whether to step forward, waiting for Merlin to back down.

‘Merlin…’ Arthur began, but she ignored him.

‘Tell me.’ Whatever it was, she could handle it.

Merlin had lived in Camelot hearing half-truths about her other identity, and now she had a chance for more answers. She wasn’t just a King of the Druids, she couldn’t be. Arthur didn’t understand what it was like to be in a position that nobody really understood, with a title that never seemed to fit her.

‘Emrys may guide the Once and Future King to unite Albion, but he’ll also watch Camelot’s destruction.’ She didn’t even correct him on the fact that he referred to her as a man, too busy demanding more.

‘There’s more, there has to be. Tell me!’ She was close to grabbing him, to shaking him until she got the answers she wanted.

Finally, he met her gaze.

‘You’ll watch Camelot fall, watch as the seasons pass and all those around you grow old with mortality. You, Emrys, are cursed to walk the earth for all of eternity.’

What really hurt, more than all the pain those words struck upon her, was the hand he cupped her cheek with after delivering his speech. A thumb brushed over her cheek, while her mouth hung open and her breathing seemed to stop.

‘I… that’s impossible.’

‘You’re going to lose the world, Emrys.’ And with that, with his last speech, the man vanished. No cloud of smoke or a beam of light, just vanishing.

Arthur was moving towards her, she could hear his footsteps descending from the throne, and she spun to meet him.

The Court were watching her with pity. Arthur looked sad, eyes soft and his lips trying to turn into a smile, but it didn’t reach his gaze. The Knights expressed similar emotions, and in that moment, Merlin figured out the words were real.

She genuinely would lose everyone.

‘Merlin…’ Arthur’s hands stretched out, like they were trying to soothe a spooked horse, and she hated it.

She didn’t want to lose them.

So, she did the very best thing.

She ran.

**

It couldn’t be true. It couldn’t, yet it made sense, and Arthur clipped his cloak around his shoulders and looked back to his men. None of them had said a word about what they had heard, not even Gwaine, although he could see that the Knight wanted to bring it up.

Merlin wasn’t going to grow old with them.

Arthur was going to have to die, knowing that he was leaving Merlin behind. The very thought was ridiculous, because there was no Merlin without Arthur, nor an Arthur without Merlin.

‘Sire…’

‘We need to make sure she doesn’t do something stupid.’ He stated firmly, ignoring the way his voice wavered.

Merlin wanted to run, and he could understand that. It wasn’t a good idea for her to be alone, though. She may hate him for following, but he wasn’t going to leave her alone.

‘She’s hurting.’ Lancelot murmured, breaking the silence from his men.

‘Which is why we’re going after her.’ They nodded, agreeing to trek out after her, only for Morgana to appear as they walked from the Castle.

‘Morgana…’

‘I know I can’t stop you from going after her. But I want you to be kind, Arthur. Merlin needs comfort, not you telling her off for fleeing.’ Sometimes, his sister was far too wise. Like the rest of them, she looked hurt from the secret that was spilled in front of the Court, but there was a determination underneath that scared him.

‘I’m going after her to prove we care, Morgana.’ He promised, and the sorceress smiled.

‘Good. Then I should probably tell you she’s going to the Lake.’

**

Merlin stumbled blindly into the clearing, knowing that she was unprepared for such a journey away from Camelot. Her feet hurt, and her eyes burned from the tears that were still falling.

She’d given her life for Arthur, but she wouldn’t get to go to Avalon with him.

‘Freya! Freya, please, I need you!’ Her knees hit the shore of the lake, sand and gravel digging into her skin as she slumped, sobbing loudly as she stared out across the water.

‘Freya!’ Begging worked, in this case, because the water broke and Freya emerged. She was dry, despite the water that surrounded her, rushing to her side and dropping down to her knees in the shallow water.

‘Merlin! What happened?’ Her hands went to her shoulders, then drifted like she was checking for injuries. The Witch just leaned forward, let her head fall to the Lady’s shoulder as she let out another choked sound.

Gentle hands came to cradle her, a hand running through her hair while the Lady of the Lake started humming a gentle tune.

It carried across the clearing, until Merlin’s hiccupped crying settled for just sniffling.

‘Did you know I was immortal?’ Merlin eventually questioned, knowing the answer would break her heart.

Sure enough, the hands cradling both cheeks as she pulled back tensed, Freya’s gaze betraying her.

‘I wanted to tell you…’

‘I get it. You’re not my Freya.’ Had Merlin not been upset, she wouldn’t have said such a hurtful thing. But now, she couldn’t find it in her to care.

‘I told you I’d repay you…’

‘By keeping this from me?!’ Merlin demanded, yanking herself back from Freya’s grip. It didn’t stop the once-Druid from reaching for her hands, taking them and letting them rest in Merlin’s lap.

‘Arthur will rise again, Merlin. They all will.’

‘I don’t want to live without them.’ Merlin felt her heart threaten to stop just thinking about it, of being alone.

‘You’ll have me, and Aithusa.’

Merlin sagged, let her head hang and her body fall limp. Freya sighed, moved closer until she could press their foreheads together. It felt nice, to have comfort from her, but Merlin made the mistake of looking up.

Freya’s eyes darted to Merlin’s lips, just as they had on that night under the Castle.

The kiss was quick, nothing more than Freya pressing her cold skin to Merlin’s warm, before the Witch pulled back.

‘Freya… my heart belongs to the Knights. To Arthur. It always will.’ She hated how it sounded, because there had been a time where she was willing to risk everything just to run away with the woman in front.

‘I know. Think of it as a goodbye. I… I’ll always be waiting, Merlin. I promised you that when you showed me kindness.’

The Witch watched as Freya slipped back into the Lake, vanishing just as the man had done. Slowly, she dragged herself up, breeches soggy and an ache in her heart.

She needed to head back to Camelot, to Arthur, to try and explain…

When she turned, Merlin halted mid-thought, staring in confusion at the group of six men that were waiting along the treeline. For a moment, she feared that they’d be angry, that they’d hate her for what had just happened, but they didn’t ask.

Arthur didn’t ask.

He just gave her a smile, that one that meant Merlin knew she was welcome to stumble into his arms, burying her head into the crook of his neck.

‘I don’t want to talk about it.’ She mumbled into his skin, letting Arthur’s arms wrap around her.

‘You don’t have to. But we should get you back to Camelot, I’ve convinced the Cook to make you some sugared strawberries.’

She’d have to talk about it eventually, but for now, sugared strawberries did sound tempting.


	20. Proving Something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin doesn't want to talk about it, but she also doesn't want to appear weak. Luckily, the girls have got her covered

Merlin didn’t know what was going on in her head. Those in the Castle looked at her like they expected her to snap, but Merlin’s attention was focused on the fact that she wanted comfort. Hugs, casual touches, or more than that, she didn’t care. She wanted to feel alive, because she most definitely was, even if she’d stay that way for a very long time.

‘I want to look… strong.’ She finished lamely, glancing away from the mirror to her closest friends. Gwen clapped her hands in excitement, while Morgana wiggled her fingers threateningly, golden taking over the green in her eyes.

‘I’ve got the very best idea.’ Morgana promised, and who was Merlin to doubt her?

Her Magic crept out, Merlin letting her eyes fall shut as she waited for Morgana’s best judgement.

If Camelot thought that Merlin was going to crumble under the news that she wouldn’t die, she was going to prove to the it wouldn’t change a thing. She still loved Arthur and the Knights, and she’d keep them safe for as long as she possibly could.

By the time they were done, Gwen’s eyes were wide and filled with pride. Morgana grinned, slowly clapped her hands together, stepping away from the mirror and giving Merlin the first look at her work.

‘Wow.’ Once she’d got past the initial shock, Merlin was pleased. It still looked like her, even if the Magic had taken liberties with the outfit.

‘I think this will work.’

**

Arthur’s Castle was empty. The Knights looked just as confused as he was, walking through while trying to find someone. Even the Guards weren’t at their usual posts, and had this been a time of war, he might have panicked.

Instead, he was trying to locate Merlin.

‘Sefa!’ The maid paused, turning to bob a curtsey to him. She looked to be in a hurry, but she still waited for him to catch up to her.

‘Where is everyone?’ Her first instinct was to laugh, then quickly changed her expression when she realised he was serious.

‘The training grounds, Sire. The Lady Merlin and Morgana are fighting.’ His first instinct was worry, before he realised she meant training.

Well, he couldn’t let this happen in his Kingdom without going to see what the fuss was about. Sefa led the way, quickly moving past the empty Guards post and down towards the training grounds. Sure enough, the maids and servants had flocked, as had a series of nobles that he distinctly remembered protesting the repeal on the ban of Magic.

Morgana was dressed in light leathers and chainmail, a sword in hand and her eyes the brightest of gold. Her hair was slicked back, a sweaty flush over her usually pale skin, and Arthur was impressed by the way she dodged a blow and quickly got back to her feet.

It took him far too long to recognise Merlin, and when he did…

‘That’s hot.’ Gwaine murmured, echoing Arthur’s thoughts.

Merlin was dressed in platelet armour, chainmail underneath and form-fitting pieces of metal that hugged her form. He didn’t miss the Pendragon emblem on the breastplate, nor the flash of red that came from the neckerchief she was still wearing. Her hair was braided back tightly, but wisps had already started to escape.

Unlike Morgana, her eyes were still blue. She slid under Morgana’s oncoming attack, dodging the blow and bringing her sword up behind her to hit the back of Morgana’s form. The elder stumbled, but righted herself in time to bring her sword down towards Merlin’s head.

He’d never actually seen Merlin fight with a sword. Sure, he sometimes jokingly gave her one, but it was always to make fun of her. Not to see her fight with it, nor to watch her match Morgana blow-by-blow, clearly as skilled as she was.

Merlin gained the upper hand when Morgana wobbled, but the Sorceress clearly wasn’t finished, a burst of Magic sending Merlin skidding back into the dirt. She’d never looked more like the Court Sorceress of Camelot, like Emrys, until she looked back at Morgana.

The sword was abandoned in favour of Merlin bringing her hands up, blue flames spreading up her arms as she moved. Morgana froze, before one of her hands stretched out to the earth around. The air began to pick up, leaves rustling as the wind started to catch the flames.

As feared, the air allowed the flames to blow back into Merlin. But rather than burning her, like Arthur had feared, they simply engulfed her form completely. By the time Morgana lowered her hand, Merlin was a burning ball of fire, simply standing and waiting for the sorceress to finish.

‘That’s cheating.’ Morgana panted out, clearly drained from the fight. Merlin just smirked, offering out her hand in acceptance.

Morgana’s grin warned him that something was about to happen, but Arthur still didn’t expect Guinevere to appear wielding a sword.

Merlin ducked right at the last moment, the sword slicing past her shoulder with barely the briefest of moments to spare. Another swing, Merlin jumping backwards and holding her hand out. The sword she’d previously abandoned went flying, hit against Gwen’s with a clang that rang out across the training fields.

She may have been able to hold off Morgana, but the two of them? It was quite clear that Merlin’s energy was flagging, with Morgana hurling spells and Guinevere battling away, enough that Arthur was genuinely concerned that one misplaced blow might injure one of them.

He was proved right, or partially right, a moment later when Gwen managed to disarm Merlin. Her blade went flying, and before she could call it back, Morgana was bringing her own sword down.

More than one person shouted out as the sword came down, a couple of screams from the maids, but it was an unfounded worry.

Merlin’s grin was damn-near feral, her fingers closing around the sword and burning straight through the metal. No longer did her eyes shine gold, but they swirled like molten lava, a dangerous thing that was proved when Gwen tried to do the same thing that Morgana had.

This time, catching the blade in her hand proved advantageous, because she yanked it out of Gwen’s grip and then swung it round, pressing it to Gwen’s breastplate.

A series of incomprehensible words, Morgana’s hands flying out as she sent a rush of earth flying towards the younger sorceress. Clumps of rock and dirt, which Merlin blocked without even needing to drop the sword against Gwen.

Gwen surrendered, while Merlin turned her attention to Morgana, focusing on the ground at her feet.

The earth rose up, mud slowly taking over her boots and creeping up her legs. It immobilised her, held Morgana still as Merlin waited for her surrender.

Eventually, the older Sorceress inclined her head, and the spells shattered.

He couldn’t even find it in him to scold Morgana and Gwen for wrapping each other up in a hug, Morgana’s lips finding Gwen’s despite the fact they weren’t behind closed doors. Merlin looked amused, ran a hand through her hair and then looked up to him. He watched as she looked at the crowd in shock, then blushed darkly when she realised that she’d had an audience to her fight.

She jogged across quickly, a smile on her face as she looked up at him.

‘Sorry, did you need me?’ She was nothing more than slightly flushed, a little breathless as she looked over the group. He was pretty sure his shock was mirrored on those around him, apart from Gwaine, who somehow managed to just grin right back at her.

‘Think you can beat me up like that?’ She laughed, nodded towards the armoury. Right, she was wearing armour. Armour he’d never seen before, but he didn’t question it, falling in step AFTER his Knight and Court Sorceress. They chatted away like nothing had happened, like Merlin hadn't just completely stunned them all.

‘Need a hand?’ Gwaine gestured to the buckles, while Arthur sat down redundantly.

Merlin was better than half of his Knights.

‘Thanks.’ He watched in confusion as one of his Knights helped her out of the armour, then the chainmail. Merlin rolled her shoulders back and groaned, then reached for the neckerchief tying her hair and removed that.

‘Uch, I’m all sweaty.’ He agreed, not that he was complaining, watching in a mixture of shock and awe as Gwaine dared to reach out for her hip. Merlin snorted as his hands crept over the skin, let herself be tugged back.

‘Smell fine to me.’ Gwaine nipped at the back of her ear, Merlin giggling like… like a maiden! Arthur just watched as Gwaine managed to read Merlin completely right, his arm settling around her waist.

‘You’re such a sweet-talker.’ She teased, trying to put the armour back while Gwaine settled back on the bench, dragging her down to his lap. She settled down to clean her armour, glancing over to the others.

‘I thought you lot were going riding today?’ That had been the plan, until Arthur grew fed up of Gwaine’s singing and Elyan’s encouragement.

‘Princess didn’t like my singing.’ Gwaine’s pout was ridiculous, but to Arthur’s horror, Merlin just kissed him briefly for it.

‘I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.’

‘They’re ganging up on me.’ He whispered, horrified and amused in equal mixtures.

‘You’re being overthrown.’ Leon agreed, but he was smiling at Merlin without hesitation.

‘Oh Arthur, you know I’m happy to serve you.’ She teased, but the words were instantly hopped upon by Gwaine.

‘Sweetheart, you can serve me anytime.’ His hand crept up her thigh, but nowhere inappropriate.

‘My fighting really turned you on huh?’ Merlin’s tongue stuck out at Gwaine, and Arthur had to admit, he’d never seen Gwaine’s charms fail before. The Knight seemed just as out of his depth, but he played it off by grinning.

‘Try me and find out?’ For a moment, Arthur genuinely thought she would take him up on the offer. Instead, she leaned in as close as she dared, before climbing from his lap and moving across to Leon. The First Knight was more than happy to let Merlin settle on his lap.

‘Why _him_?’ Gwaine whined, while Elyan was almost falling off the bench with laughter. Even Percival was struggling to stay quiet, which proved just how hilarious the moment was.

‘Because Sir Leon complimented by hold on the sword.’ That was true, he had.

‘I’ll give you all the compliments you want.’ Gwaine shot back, winking, but Leon was quicker. He snatched Merlin’s hand up, raising it to his lips while keeping his eyes on hers.

‘Might I say, my Lady, that I’ve never seen a woman fight with such grace before.’ Maybe it was the tone with which he said it, or the way his eyes were full of an expression he’d never expected to see from Leon, but Merlin was gone. Swooning, that was the most accurate word he could use, because Merlin’s breathing hitched as her eyes widened.

‘I…’ He let their joined hands drop to Merlin’s lap, while his other hand moved to tuck a stray strand of her hair behind her ear. It was smoothly done, and for a moment, Arthur had an unwilling flashback to a teen Arthur following around Sir Leon in hopes of learning how to seduce the women of court.

He shoved it aside in favour of watching a lost Merlin blink owlishly at Leon.

‘May I have the honour, my Lady?’ His thumb brushed over her mouth, and suddenly, the armoury was far too hot. Since the night where Merlin had kissed them, they hadn't pushed too far. Occasional kisses, growing comfortable in each other’s presence, but never like this.

Merlin nodded shyly, eyes fluttering shut as Leon kissed her. It was ever so soft, Merlin slumping into the Knight’s hold quite happily as he deepened the kiss. It should have felt awkward, watching the two of them, but instead it was hot. Gwaine had abandoned his look of a kicked-puppy in favour of smirking, while the others watched as Leon’s hand slid down Merlin’s back to her arse.

She gasped into his mouth, Leon pulling back and smirking slightly.

‘I… I should go and bathe.’ She looked hesitant to leave, especially when Leon pecked her lips.

‘See you at dinner then.’ Wobbly legs managed to support her, Merlin glancing back before quickly leaving the room.

‘Lucky bugger.’ Gwaine stated, watching the space where she’d been.

‘You were the one that gave me the chance.’ Leon rarely teased back, proof enough that Merlin was pulling them closer together.

‘I can’t wait for dessert.’ Lancelot muttered, then realised what he’d said when the rest of the Knights laughed.

‘If Merlin wants one of us…’

‘Then the rest will have to deal with a hand.’ Leon stated firmly, while the others nodded. Gwaine copied, although he did smirk at the same time.

‘Says the one in the lead.’


	21. Drinking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin's getting there, my dudes

Merlin giggled, taking another swig of the wine that was offered out to her. The evening was plodding on slowly, filled with casual talking and drinking, discussing the gossip of Camelot and state affairs. Gwaine was currently telling a story, arms waving madly as he exaggerated the size of a bear that he’d attacked, Merlin contributing to the story with gasps and murmurs of praise when appropriate.

Like this, the Knights went from respected men of Camelot to ordinary folk, even Arthur. The King joined in with the story telling, describing a few choice hunts from when he was younger.

She’d opted for sitting on one of the loungers, feet kicked up and her body curled into Elyan’s side. The Knight kept a hand in her hair, stroking through it carefully as they listened on. Merlin thought back to earlier, to the way Leon had kissed her in the armoury, and she wondered if this was what life would be like from now on.

Not that she was complaining. Who would, with six of Albion’s finest men all wanting her? Some part of her worried that it was the thrill of the chase, but then she pointed out that none of them had openly tried to further things. Well, Gwaine had, but that was just who he was. She felt comfortable with each of them, would lay down her life for any of the six of them, and it was a scary thought. For a long time, it had been just Arthur that mattered, because he was her destiny. Somewhere along the journey, the lines had blurred, and she was thankful for it.

There was a low heat in her belly that picked up as Elyan’s hand traced down her spine, following the line of the dress she was wearing. It was a simple gown, nothing like the extravagant things that Morgana wore, or the neatly decorated dresses of Gwen’s style. Simple, like her taste in clothing in general, but it proved slightly problematic for her chest.

For one, she hadn’t worn a binder. She’d known that they’d be drinking, and she wanted the ability to drink freely without having to worry about the fact that her bandages were usually tight enough to hurt her if she tried to gulp liquids down quickly. Plus, it was a casual evening.

The issue was that her chest was currently pressed to one of Elyan’s thighs, and she knew that as her breathing picked up, he’d be able to tell. Perhaps that was why his fingers continued to the small of her back, before slowly tracing back up.

Was this not what she wanted? To be loved by these men, treated like their lover? Merlin relaxed, tilted her shoulder back so she could glance up at the Knight, found him watching her with a small smile on his face.

‘Comfy?’ He asked, a thumb dropping to her chin and lightly tracing the skin. Merlin smiled in return, turned to nuzzle into his touch. Each of the Knights had a scent to them, and although she could never choose between them, Elyan’s sweet lavender was always welcome.

‘Very.’ She responded, forgetting Gwaine’s story for long enough to sit up and kiss him. Elyan was always so hesitant to begin with, before his actions became bolder, like he wanted to prove that he could control the situation. Merlin was happy to let him, sighing happily into the kiss as her head was tilted up.

Someone whistled at them, probably Gwaine, but Merlin found that she didn’t care. She licked the taste of wine from Elyan’s lips, grinned when hands reached for her hips and lifted her to settle on his lap. To begin with, she’d worried that her weight would be too much, before realising that she had been carried by each one of them at some point.

Letting her knees settle on each side of him, she cradled his face between her hands, pressing up against him and feeling a slight thrill at the fact there was no armour between them. It was such a common thing for him to be wearing, but without it, she got the joy of feeling the defined muscles underneath.

Leon’s kiss earlier had got slightly out of hand, and this was no different. She could feel the heat in her stomach tightening, a desire that she knew she had to be careful with sparking up, while the Knight worked on letting his hands roam down her back. They skipped over her arse, moved down to her thighs, to the place where the dress had bunched up enough for her to settle down.

It was purely by accident that she rocked forward, gasped when she felt the pressure currently resting on the inside of her thigh. Elyan groaned into her mouth, fingers tightening on her thighs, dipping under the fabric enough for her to feel calloused fingers on her skin.

Suddenly, Merlin wasn’t sitting within the safety of Camelot. There was no comfortable recliner or a Knight she trusted explicitly, but a cold alley and a dark sky.

_‘Hold still.’ Fingers pushing her thighs, breaking the skin, tiny crescent marks that would leave marks on her soul._

She jerked back so quickly she almost fell, felt Elyan’s hands drop instantly. His eyes were on her, concerned and waiting for her to explain, but Merlin most definitely did not want to think about that now.

Instead of answering the question in his gaze, she reached across for the wineskin and quickly swallowed some down. It burned the back of her throat, or maybe that was the bile that threatened to rise as she focused on controlling her breathing.

The others were watching. She recognised the arousal in each of their faces, but also the clear suspicion that she was hiding something. None would push it, perhaps except for Arthur, and even he wouldn’t do it now.

‘Did we disturb your story-telling?’ She joked, glad that her tone held firm.

Gwaine, thank the Gods for him, smirked right back at her.

‘We just got to the good bit.’

**

She was dancing. Gwaine spun her around yet again, while she laughed excitedly and almost fell into Lancelot, who took her hand and promptly twirled her right back again. Sometime in the night, music had started playing in the room. Merlin had begged the group to dance, and luckily, Gwaine and Lancelot were drunk enough.

The others quickly followed, which was why Leon was currently wearing a bedsheet as a cape, and Percival was wandering around dressed in a shirt that was far too small for him. Arthur was challenging Elyan to yet another arm wrestle, a display of manliness that Merlin didn’t protest considering the fact that they kept spilling wine down themselves, then promptly abandoned their shirts.

Merlin took another gulp of the wine, feeling particularly emboldened by the liquid. The more she drunk, the less threatening her body found the people around, the less their touches brought back memories she really didn’t want to think of. It was working perfectly, enough so that she dared to kiss Gwaine.

He caught her, kissed her back just as she’d hoped, but there was a hesitance in his kiss that told her she was missing something.

‘Merls.’ He murmured, holding her closely as he studied her eyes.

‘Gwaine?’ She kissed him again, hoping that it would clear everything up, but he only responded with a brief peck.

He hesitated, leaning in to brush his lips against her ear, his breath hot.

‘We’re going to do this when your sober, okay?’

He knew. Did they all know? Merlin tried to push back, but arms wrapped around her, pinning her in place until she just sagged into the hold.

She trusted them, she knew she did. Why couldn’t her body catch up with that thought?

‘But I want to.’ She sounded like a petulant child, even to her own ears.

‘Then in the morning, we can continue.’ Gwaine wiggled his eyebrows playfully, before attention turned to where Arthur had also found himself a cloak, made out of what looked suspiciously like a tablecloth.

‘In the morning.’ She agreed, taking his hand and linking their fingers together.


	22. Hope?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freya's back, but her appearance has some issues

A yelp woke her, a thudding sound followed by a groan as she rose her head, peeking over the edge of the lounger. It was Leon that had hit the floor, trying to cover himself with a bedsheet that was stained with the wine from last night. Merlin snorted, then realised that there was probably a reason that he was trying to cover himself up.

She rolled back over, narrowly avoided falling off her own perch, before her breath caught.

Freya looked slightly awkward, standing in a puddle of spilt wine as she glanced around the room of men. Merlin couldn’t even find it in her to be embarrassed that she was asleep with the Knights, was too busy jumping up from her seat and rushing across, narrowly avoiding a waking Elyan.

‘Freya!’ The Lady of the Lake smiled, accepted Merlin’s arms wrapping around her. The cold was a shock, but one she should be used to by now. Freya wasn’t alive, per say, more… there. A constant that Merlin would have to rely on increasingly, if her future was set in stone.

‘I did not mean to disturb you, Merlin, I just…’ She trailed off as Arthur finally woke, looking over at the two of them in confusion.

‘Is something wrong?’ Merlin asked, studying the woman for any signs of panic. There was a hesitation in the way she gazed at Merlin, a pang of worry.

‘Perhaps we should go somewhere else?’ Her first instinct was to agree, to drag Freya off to the nearest puddle of water basin that she could concentrate her power on.

Then she remembered last night, the way Gwaine’s fingers had looped with hers. Trust, that was what they were offering out, and she’d repay them.

‘Anything you say to me can be heard by them.’ Merlin promised, didn’t miss the way Lancelot relaxed out of the corner of her eye.

‘I thought of a way you might be able to keep one of your friends with you.’ She didn’t get it, not until Freya’s beseeching gaze hit hers dead on.

Oh.

‘One?’ Gwaine asked, standing up and running a hand through his hair. Merlin tried to take a step back, but she stumbled, hitting Percival’s chest. Hands came to stabilise her, but she couldn’t think, not when…

‘Only one.’ Freya replied honestly, looking guilty as she spoke.

Merlin could only have one?

‘Thank you. I’ll consider it.’ The words tasted foul, but Merlin forced them from her lips. They hit the room and hung awkwardly, the Lady of the Lake giving her one last look before vanishing.

‘Merls?’ Gwaine was waiting, but he’d been right.

Merlin wasn’t ready. Not to be bedded by them, and certainly not to pick one of them over the others.

‘Breakfast?’ She fake-cheered, turning quickly to the door and pushing away the thoughts of greying Knights and old age.

**

‘You’re asking me for the impossible.’

‘I would never make you. This is your choice.’ Merlin knew what it meant to be given no options, so she would never do the same to anyone else.

This was her choice, and she’d chosen to give someone else the ability to pick.

‘Why choose me?’ It was a good question, but Merlin knew in her heart that she’d chosen the right person. That this was the only way for her to move forward, to live in the present, to be ready for the relationship she was forming.

‘Because I trust you to know what it means.’ Merlin answered honestly, inclining her head respectfully and waiting for her dismissal.

She was pulled into a tight embrace, a hug that lasted for far longer than most, before they pulled apart.

‘Go to them.’ Morgana advised, and Merlin smiled.

She’d made the right decision, even if it hurt.

**

Throwing the door open so aggressively, in hindsight, probably wasn’t the best idea. Arthur’s sword was brought up to her chest, while Leon reached for his own, the others stumbling over their feet to get up in time. Merlin raised an eyebrow at the King, glancing to the sword pressing to the front of her dress, then back to him.

‘Pleased to see me?’ She teased, watching him roll his eyes before lowering the weapon.

‘You could have been skewered.’

‘Like a roast pig.’ Gwaine helpfully provided, earning him Elyan’s socks thrown in his direction. Merlin snorted, taking her seat in the armoury and shrugging.

‘I’d use it as blackmail to get out of chores.’ She admitted, grinning when Percival and Lancelot both laughed.

‘Do you want to talk about earlier?’ Gwaine asked, a strange sincerity taking over his tone.

Merlin had expected this question.

‘I’ve already chosen. It wasn’t difficult.’ Yes it was, but Merlin didn’t want to tell them that.

‘Whoever it is…’ Leon began calmy,

‘We won’t get annoyed.’

‘Or angry.’

‘Or jealous.’ Elyan chimed in, while Arthur stayed quiet.

‘Nothing to say?’ Merlin asked hesitantly, and the King slowly moved to where she was seated. Very slowly, he went down to one knee, then the other.

‘Why did you not pick one of us?’ He’d figured it out, then, even if the others hadn't caught on. Sure enough, the Knights looked flabbergasted, while Arthur took one of her hands in his. Comfort, which couldn’t be easy for him, considering he tried to avoid it usually.

‘I’d never choose between you.’ She answered honestly, watching as Arthur nodded.

‘Morgana’s a good choice.’

‘I’ll wait for you. All of you.’ She hesitated before she leaned forward, tilted her head up to kiss him briefly.

‘We know.’ He promised, before rocking back to his feet, leaving Merlin feeling strangely warm inside.

Nobody questioned her choice. Not even Gwaine, and Merlin wondered if that meant they truly were alright with sharing her. That there was no jealousy, and they could understand her heart lay with all of them.

‘You know you’re quite smart.’ Lancelot stated, leaning across to peck her cheek while moving to grab a sword.

‘Go on, off with you!’ She waved him off, trying to ignore the flush that came to her cheeks at the compliment. The Knights laughed, reaching for weapons and heading towards the exit of the armoury.

When it was just her, Merlin relaxed back onto the bench.

She would wait for them to return, knowing that when they did, she’d be complete once again.

**

Taking a walk down by the stables was usually a place where she could forget everything that had happened. Like now, when she didn’t want to think of the future, just focusing on what had happened over the past month. Her Uncle told her she should be grateful for what she had, whereas her mind told her to take more. That she could have the Knights of Camelot without repercussion, and she should do so.

The stables were usually empty at this time, when the Knights were training, but today, they weren’t. The closer she got, she could hear murmurings, the rustling of straw as she moved through the shadows. A gasp drew her attention to the far end of the row, focusing on the outline of a person. Merlin drew closer, pulling her magic up so she was ready to defend herself.

Instead of having to use it, another sound filled the room, a moan that Merlin identified as Sefa’s filling the air. Merlin was naïve enough to take another step, fearing that the maid was hurt and needed her help, before identifying the sound as something drawn from pleasure, rather than pain.

It was only in the grunt that happened after that Merlin realised what she was walking in on, quickly retreating to the sounds of wet skin slapping together, hiding her flush from those she rushed past to get towards the safety of her Knights.

She’d sounded happy. It was that fact that drew Merlin to look across the training field to her Knights, to the men showing off their strength in a foolish display of masculinity. She watched, and realised that maybe she did want them.

That maybe, for once, she wanted to be the Lady with her Knights.


	23. Armoury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin knows what she wants, and good for her!

In the end, it was Gwaine she went to first. Her body made the decision for her, leaving no room to change her mind as she moved over to him. They’d just finished training, the group in the armoury stripping down from their practices, but she didn’t want to turn around for fear that her nerve would break.

Gwaine didn’t need to ask why, didn’t even stumble as Merlin kissed him. Maybe she should have waited till he’d fully removed the armour, or perhaps even after he’d had a bath, but Merlin didn’t care in that moment. Neither did the Knight, if the hungry kiss that returned was anything to go by. That was why she’d chosen him, because she knew that the Knight wouldn’t ask what changed her mind, or why she’d suddenly come across to him.

A steady arm wrapped around her waist, while a hand began to move her hair from the back of her neck.

It wasn’t Gwaine’s hand. That should have made her tense, but Merlin knew the Knights better than she knew herself, could identify the other person as Lancelot. A surprise, or maybe not, considering that the two of them had always been close to her. Pressed between two of the finest men in Albion, Merlin was rather quite lucky, she mused. Her head tilted, not only to keep her lips against Gwaine’s, but to give Lancelot room to access her neck.

‘So eager.’ Gwaine scolded lightly, fingers tracing over her hip while Lancelot began to ghost his lips over her skin. She was going to reply, to roll her eyes or scoff, but the Knight behind her was pressing up against her body and she promptly forgot everything she’d ever learned.

The others had to be in the room somewhere, she tried to remind herself of that, but it was hard to think when Gwaine was stealing the air from her lungs. There was no space between them, hands tugging her backwards until she could feel a pressure against the small of her back, while Gwaine’s fingers had crept to the neckline of her dress.

‘Lock the door.’ Arthur ordered, and somebody turned to go and do it, but Merlin’s Magic was keyed to the King’s command. She didn’t even have the chance to stop it from shutting the door, had just enough time to look across and see Arthur’s shock.

‘You’re so quick to obey.’ Gwaine nipped at her jawline, fingers tangling in her hair and tugging it back, while Lancelot sucked a bruise onto the side of her neck.

‘No… oh, no I’m not!’ She protested, arching up into the fingers running around her neckline.

‘Remove Arthur’s armour.’ Afterwards, when her head wasn’t foggy, she would realise that Gwaine’s words were intended to lure her in. Her Magic crept out, using memories of stripping Arthur of his armour to do the same now. Gwaine was sniggering, and Lancelot’s hands were running down to her arse.

‘I hate you.’ She muttered, felt Gwaine pause when his hands reached the ties of her dress.

Oh. The silence fell heavy between them, everyone waiting for her response.

In the end, the decision was the one she’d already made.

‘Please.’ Her whisper was loud in the room, resulting in Lancelot’s gasp of surprise. Gwaine just grinned, pecking her lips before going back to the strings. They were undone quickly, the gown falling down to her ankles quickly.

‘Lance, the bindings.’ Gwaine was already sealing his lips back over hers, kissing while guiding her back towards what she hoped was a bench. Her knees felt like they were about to buckle, and had it not been for Lancelot’s steady hold on her, she might have done.

Her bindings were undone, while Gwaine span her around sharply and sat her down onto his lap.

Merlin blushed when she realised that five men now had a very clear view of her chest, rose her arms on instinct to cover herself before Gwaine caught them.

‘Don’t hide from us, Merls.’ An ankle kicked between her feet, spreading her legs wider while she tried to control her breathing.

Gwaine wasn’t pushing, just waiting for her to decide if this was alright.

‘Who’d you want first, sweetheart?’ She had to choose? Merlin’s tongue felt dry in her mouth, the thought of having to pick one over the others…

‘Leon?’ Gwaine prompted, and Merlin nodded shyly while Leon moved across. She wondered why Leon had picked him specifically, before Leon was kneeling down between her spread thighs.

‘Is this okay?’ Leon asked, while his hands moved to her inner thighs. The touch made her jolt, but she swallowed down her nerves and nodded.

‘We’re going to take this steadily. Only one tonight.’ Gwaine soothed, stroking up her arms while Leon moved to kiss her.

He was ever so careful, licked at her lip and then bit down until she relaxed into him. She cupped his cheeks, felt the stubble beneath her exploring fingertips. Leon’s hands stayed on her thighs, like he feared her reaction if they moved.

The fact that they were being so patient, that he was trying to make sure she was comfortable, provided the confidence needed. She took his hands, both of them, and guided them to her chest. They were warm, rough at the fingertips that skirted over her skin, before moving to her nipples.

Nobody had touched her here, willingly, since she was a child. Will had once fumbled with her while they were exploring their changing bodies, but apart from that…

She gasped when fingers pinched, rolling her nipple between a thumb and finger, while she arched up into him.

‘Easy.’ Gwaine murmured into her ear, a hand moving to her thigh and spreading it wider.

‘More.’ She pleaded, not exactly knowing what she wanted. It was like what she’d tried with her magic, a warmth that tingled over her skin while her stomach tightened.

‘Don’t leave our girl waiting, Leon.’ Gwaine’s teasing urged the older Knight on, the hand moving over her stomach and to the waistband of her smallclothes.

Only once he dared to creep under did she tense up. It was nothing like what she feared, not rushed or painful, and the moment she tensed up he halted.

‘Gwaine.’ Merlin spoke his name, because she hoped he’d understand.

‘Over the smallclothes.’ Where Merlin had stumbled, Leon did not. There was no complaint, no urge for her to get over the fear. His hand withdrew immediately, moving over the cloth and carefully pressing.

She must have made a sound, because Gwaine was chuckling and Leon looked pleased.

‘That’s it, rock up against him.’ With Gwaine’s guidance, and Leon’s fingers pressing down with a frustrating layer between them, Merlin chased after that feeling she desired. Of warmth, and a wet heat that she feared would spread to the thigh beneath her.

‘Gods, Leon, please.’ She didn’t know what she was begging for, but he did. His lips met hers, while Gwaine sucked at the juncture of her neck.

Merlin’s Magic burst right as she did, shockwaves radiating out and burning the torches brightly while she moaned. Her head tipped back to Gwaine’s shoulder, eyes fluttering shut as she panted.

‘Good girl.’ Gwaine’s proud voice was back, fabric wrapping over chest and hiding her from view.

‘Was that okay?’ Leon asked, eyes dark and a tent in his breeches that Merlin suddenly felt guilty for.

She’d taken something she wasn’t sure she could give back.

‘Merls, we’re not worried about us.’ She nodded shakily, knowing Gwaine was telling the truth, then dared to look around the room.

Only one emotion was clear, and that was desire. Hot and heavy, wanting, and the Witch realised that they genuinely weren’t worried that she wasn’t ready to reciprocate.

‘I’m ready for a nap.’ She joked, let Leon guide her to her feet and kissed him.

‘A nap does sound good.’ The First Knight agreed, Merlin tucking the cloak tighter around her.


	24. Fight, or flight?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay y'all, I'm planning on maybe three more chapters after this one?

Buzzing wasn’t quite the word she’d use, but it was accurate enough. She could have sworn that people could tell what happened, eyes lingering on her for longer than normal, before she decided that it was just because she was smiling so much. Bouncing down the corridors were great fun, especially when she knew that the chances were that the Knights would see her again tonight.

She made it to the market, moving in and out of the people as she moved further into the bustling streets. People stopped to talk, occasionally to tell her about their day, or other bits and pieces she was more than happy to linger for.

Had she been enough for them? Were they happy with what had happened the day before? Merlin bit at her lip, moving towards the western gate when a flash of dark hair caught her attention. Normally, that wouldn’t have been any concern of hers. Maybe it was some part of her that recognised the exact shade, or her Magic warning her that he was familiar.

She headed straight for him, brushing people aside and skidding to a halt when she finally saw him. He looked considerably better than the last time they had met, more filled out and wearing clothes that could almost have bordered on noble.

‘Merlin?’ Jacob’s face turned from confusion to a brief look of panic, before a smile flitted across his face. He stepped towards her without hesitating, while Merlin thought back to the night where she’d first met him.

‘Jacob.’ Her voice sounded strangely warm, even as her body froze over. He laughed, looking her up and down before clapping her on the shoulder, the touch too boisterous for her rocketing heart.

‘You look good! By Albion, I didn’t realise you were THE Merlin.’ She wanted to point out that it wasn’t exactly a common name, especially not for women, but the man was already on to the next point.

‘I know we didn’t exactly say goodbye, but this must be fate!’ She hated fate. She hated everything, because he was chattering away like this was a completely normal thing, while Merlin tried to recall exactly why she was still standing there.

‘… lost Elma along the way, but…’

‘Elma’s dead?’ Merlin broke in, her stomach twisting horribly at the thought of the girl she’d left behind. Elma had helped her, had been the entire reason she’d managed to get the cuff off of her leg, and now…

‘We were attacked on the way by a sorceress, Elma didn’t make it.’ If Merlin had been more focused on others on that night, would any of this have happened? Would it be an untouchable subject amongst the group, would Elma have survived?

‘Do you think you could show me around the market?’ Hadn't Jacob wanted nothing to do with her? She remembered how scared he’d looked, when her Magic had finished tearing everyone apart. There was nothing there now, but before she could question it, an arm was looping through hers.

Her Magic faintly protested, told her that something was most definitely not alright with this movement, but it fell silent the moment his hand clasped at hers.

‘Lead the way, my Lady!’

**

‘She’s what?!’ Arthur snapped, the youngest of the Knights cowering away from the King’s anger. It wasn’t exactly his fault, he just so happened to have mentioned that the Lady Merlin was escorting a gentleman around Camelot, rather than training.

‘S-Sire, I thought… He looked like a noble, milord.’ The boy shied his head away, like he feared the King would strike.

Arthur did no such thing, straightening up and looking across to his friends. Gwaine had a frown etched onto his features, the others showed confusion.

Morgana, however, looked sick. It had started this morning, and although she’d assured him that she was well, her pasty complexion implied otherwise. Guinevere was just as worried, but nobody could convince Morgana not to do something, not even her.

‘Continue with your training.’ He dismissed the younger group, moving over to his friends and looking around.

‘We should find Merlin.’ Arthur concluded, right in the same moment that Morgana’s legs buckled.

Gwen’s scream was accompanied by Elyan catching the falling Sorceress, Arthur quickly taking his sister’s weight and scooping her up.

‘Sire!’ Someone called, annoying footsteps trying to distract him from carrying his sister towards the Castle. He would have ignored the person, had they not stepped right in front of him.

George was frustrating at the best of times, but Arthur had never been more annoyed to see him than now.

Until he recognised the look of terror on the servant’s face, the panic-stricken look that was quickly echoed by the others when the warning bells sounded.

‘A sorcerer.’ George panted out, two words that struck Arthur cold.

‘Merlin.’

**

Later, she’d blame her incompetence on the fear that had come from seeing Jacob. It was far too powerful, had a hold over her that was stronger than the wooziness that started around midday. People sent her funny looks, just as they had in the morning, but these lingered for much longer. She leaned into the person beside her, who acted like nothing strange was happening, continuing through Camelot without breaking stride.

In the end, Merlin didn’t realise that she was in danger until her knees gave way. She hit the cobbles, gasped as her hands shot out to break her fall, slumping down into the alley.

‘… sorry, but there was no choice!’ She vaguely remembered that she wasn’t alone, turned her head to see Jacob reaching into his pocket, a strange orb being taken out. It glowed red for a moment, before he dropped it to the ground, the sphere cracking open and hissing as the contents touched the stone.

‘Don’t fight them, they won’t hurt you! She wants the Pendragon.’ Other people were coming, men dressed in dark clothing with weapons by their sides, helmets on and a strange emblem standing out.

‘The Queen wants you.’ One of them snapped, Jacob looking at her one last time, before scampering away towards the market.

The sound of bells rung out, just like they had on the day that Merlin had been ruling over Camelot. Her instinct to go to Arthur, to find her King was overwhelming, but it couldn’t quite break from the nausea holding her in place.

‘She’s going for the Castle.’ Somebody crouched down beside her, a hand reaching for her hair and yanking it back until she could see the Knight in front.

Because he was a Knight, undeniably. It clicked a moment later, King Lot, the newly appointed ruler of Escetir. Cenred had been killed under mysterious circumstances, and Lot had been just as hateful of Camelot as he predecessor. But the Queen, who was she?

‘She’ll be merciful to your kind.’ The man stated sounding rather empathetic towards her current situation.

Merciful?

‘Did the spell work?’

‘Look at her, as docile as a kitten!’ One of the others cooed, a foot kicking her boot. She grunted, but didn’t try to rise, trying to work out how her Magic was being controlled by something she couldn’t see.

‘Once Uther’s son is gone, there will be no other claim to the throne.’ Her head was released, hitting the stone once again, with enough force that her eyes began to water. She could taste blood, metallic against her tongue as she finally figured it out.

There was only one sorcerer powerful enough to quell Merlin’s power, one besides Morgana.

Her half-sister.

**

Arthur didn’t give her the satisfaction of crying out. It burned, the slice of the sword against his dominant arm, his blade clattering to the cobbles and being snatched away by one of her Knights.

‘This isn’t personal, child.’ She assured him, glancing around to those that had gathered.

The people of Camelot did not want a Queen. He could see it in their eyes, the way that hatred rolled out as the people were forced to watch the King brought to his knees. Morgause’s blade settled at his collarbone, but Arthur was too busy watching Morgana.

His sister was clearly unconscious, but her chest still rose and fell, body wrapped up in a cloak of red. Guinevere clutched at her tightly, her lips drawn back into a snarl whenever the sword that kept them pinned got too close.

‘You don’t want to start this war, Morgause.’ Arthur tried to reason, but in truth, his odds weren’t looking great.

‘I’ve already won it.’ She stated simply, uncaring about the fact that she was about to commit treason.

No, not treason, because she had already proclaimed herself Queen. With him dead, then there was only one other heir to the throne, the half-sister they shared.

‘What have you done with her!’ Gwaine was promptly kicked, shoved forward and pinned down with a blade, a feral look in the Knight’s eyes as he tried to get out of the hold.

‘All those that bow down will remain unharmed.’ Morgause turned to the crowds, but nobody moved.

No, that wasn’t correct. There was movement near the back, people murmuring and splitting apart like water, drawing back to reveal…

‘Merlin.’ Arthur breathed out, but his love didn’t look in his direction.

In fact, she looked at nobody but Morgause.

‘That’s my King.’

**

There was never a day when Merlin wasn’t proud of Arthur.

When she’d first come to Camelot, she’d hated the egotistical prat that she’d met. She’d hated the way he treated others, the entitled idiot always walking around like he owned those around him. She hated him, but she also didn’t, because she secretly admired his loyalty. He had a heart of gold, deep down, under the layers of idiocy that hid it.

Arthur fought for his people, and for his people alone. He would protect Camelot until the day he died, without hesitation, and she loved him for it. As the days turned to months, as the seasons passed, Merlin realised that her destiny had been right.

She belonged to Arthur, of that there was no doubt.

Still, there was something that always haunted her when it came to killing those that stood against her King. She did it, because Merlin had to keep Arthur safe. Without him, there wasn’t anything left to fight for.

Stumbling through the people of Arthur’s Camelot, Merlin came to the conclusion that Morgause would probably have to die. Nobody could threaten Arthur like that, not without earning Merlin’s wrath. She may be hesitant to kill those that hurt her, but when they went for Arthur…

‘That’s my King.’ She bluntly stated, fingers tightening around the blade in her hand. It was sticky, warm under her touch, and she knew if she looked down, it would be dripping red.

In the end, Merlin didn’t need her Magic to be strong. It helped, bubbling away under her skin as she focused her sights on Morgause.

‘Step aside, Emrys. This is not your…’

‘You misunderstand,’ Merlin cut in, raising the knife until it was pointing at the most accomplished Sorceress alive, ‘I will kill you. You and your men, unless you lower your weapons.’

Jacob wasn’t here. She’d rather hoped he would be, that she could have shown him what happened when someone threatened Arthur. Whatever he’d got himself into, however Morgause had found him, Merlin didn’t care.

She just wanted Arthur and her Knights back.

She wanted to tell them how sorry she was for hiding from them. Wanted to tell them how terrifying it had been to have her Magic stripped away, how numb she’d felt for the weeks following it.

‘I am fighting for Magic…’

‘Screw Magic! Screw uniting Albion, or the Druids, or stupid prophecies!’ Maybe the blood loss was getting to her, because Merlin was pretty sure she shouldn’t be saying that as Court Sorcerer,

‘That’s my King, and anyone that tries to get to him goes through me.’ Her nose was broken. It had been the first injury she’d assessed, after killing the Knights that tried to restrain her. Whatever spell the High Priestess had placed, it wasn’t enough to keep Merlin pinned down for long.

She also felt sick. Right down to the core, where her Magic resided. The spell was horrifically strong, which told Merlin that the woman in front couldn’t be very powerful at the moment.

Unfortunately, the reverse was also true, and Morgause knew.

‘Then I’ll go through you.’ Morgause moved her sword away from Arthur’s neck, Merlin watching as it was replaced by one of the Knights’ blades.

Where was Excalibur?

**

Arthur rolled aside from the fire, shouted to his men to grab blades. Shockingly, it wasn’t just his Knights that reached for weapons. The people of Camelot flooded into the courtyard, wielding brooms and shovels and pitchforks that proved terrifying in the fight against the attacking force.

The King narrowly avoided pieces of rubble being thrown through the air, crashing into the Castle behind him as Morgause tore apart the paving beneath them.

He could see Gwaine, guiding Elyan and Gwen while they carried Morgana to safety.

He could see Gaius, already tending to those injured and also keeping an eye on the battle that took the centre stage in the fight.

He could see Merlin. She was glowing, eyes ablaze as her hands came slamming down, bringing with it the rubble that Morgause had previously commanded. A sickening crunch sounded out, a scream that fell silent as the rocks descended.

The attacking Knights stopped in their tracks, looking over to where Merlin was standing, staring at the pile of rubble she’d just brought down.

‘Morgana!’ Gwen gasped, Arthur briefly looking back to see his sister sitting up slowly, her dazed face turning to the crowds of people in the Courtyard.

He couldn’t resist, even if he wasn’t sure that Morgause was dead, he just had to call to her.

‘Merlin.’

‘Arthur.’ Merlin’s smile was radiating, blinding, thrilling to see. She smiled like her entire heart was being poured into it, like there was nothing else that mattered, and Arthur couldn’t help but smile back.

Then the sunlight hit the edge of the blade, glinting dangerously as he recognised Excalibur, right in the moment that Gwaine screamed the Witch’s name.

In the end, even the most powerful sorceress in the world had a weakness, and Merlin’s was very obviously him.

The sword sticking out of her chest proved that.


	25. Finding Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One Knight in particular did not take Merlin's death very well

Arthur’s face morphed from the brightest smile she’d ever seen, to a look of horror. Merlin realised why a second later, when every nerve in her body began to burn. Somebody screamed, a sound so heartbroken that she looked up, met Gwaine’s eye. He was the one that had made a sound, hands reaching out for her while his gaze was focused on her chest.

She’d found Excalibur. The blade was stained with blood, but despite that, she could still see her golden eyes fading back to blue in the reflection.

She blindly reached for the blade through her chest, hands reaching to the hole that was rapidly losing blood, trying to call out for Gwaine while the Knight lunged.

The sword was drawn back as quickly as it had gone through her, Merlin staggering at the sudden jerking of her body. Her attempt to call ended with blood trickling from her lips, body slumping down into Gwaine’s arms as she slid down his front.

A hand caught her head just before it hit the floor, another moving to the wound on her stomach that she was trying to prod at.

She could see Arthur, standing very still in the centre of the courtyard, staring at her like he couldn’t comprehend what was happening. There was the other Knights, echoing the King’s stance. Gwen, sobbing, and Morgana’s wide eyes meeting hers.

Her Uncle was frozen in time, mouth open and tears spilling down his cheeks, and that finally drew her attention to Gwaine.

The Knight was speaking. His lips moved rapidly, the hand on her stomach staying clamped down as he adjusted his grip on her. She couldn’t do anything but lie in his lap, trying to reach for his neck to comfort him, but halting when she saw the bloody tracks she left on his cheek.

‘s’okay, you’re going to be okay, you just need to hold on.’ It didn’t really hurt. It was more… cold. Empty, like something had been snatched from her. She smiled up at him weakly, attempting to steady her wet gasps as she met his eye.

‘M’family.’ She muttered out, hoping he got the idea, before letting her hand drop back to her side.

In the end, Merlin’s last conscious thought was that all other fears seemed narrow-minded, compared to being stabbed with the sword she’d crafted.

**

Nobody took her away from Gwaine. They didn’t point out that he should change out of the bloody armour, that there was no need to watch her like she was going to slip away. Morgana had been the one to remind them of Emrys’ immortality, that even Excalibur couldn’t kill her.

She’d died. Gwaine had felt it, the moment her pulse stopped, the moment her eyes drifted away from his gaze and looked towards the sky.

She still didn’t look alive. Gwaine had stayed while Sefa and Gwen had stripped her down of the bloody clothing, had washed away the red to reveal a white scar where the sword had pierced. She’d been dressed in a chemise, too close of a reminder for that night in the forest.

‘It could take weeks, Sire.’ Gaius had sounded pensive as he delivered his opinion, while Arthur had thanked him for his time.

Her skin was cold. Gwaine turned her hand over, let his fingers brush to her wrist and press down lightly. Beneath his touch, the steady beating of her heart kept him from panicking.

No, that wasn’t true. He was still panicking. He would continue to do so, until the moment that Merlin woke up.

He’d been close enough to see the sword go through her. To see the way her eyes widened in confusion, like she’d never even considered her own health. No, because in battle, Merlin only ever had eyes for Arthur.

It wasn’t jealousy. Gwaine was perfectly fine with Merlin loving the others, in fact, he encouraged it.

It didn’t stop him from hating the fact she completely forgot about herself, scanned the crowds for Arthur only for a man to get the better of her.

Arthur’s sword had been taken by Morgana, because none of the Knights could touch it. Not when it was slick with Merlin’s blood.

When Merlin’s Chambers were finally empty, he dared to leave her side. Just for long enough to strip off the armour, ignoring the shine of her blood on the metal. His shirt followed, before he made it to the basin to wash away the proof of what had happened.

All the Knights were on duty, reassuring Camelot’s citizens and repairing the damage done by the invading force. Morgause’s body, according to the Princess, had been found under the rubble. She was very much dead, and would be burned alongside her Knights at nightfall.

When he looked to the window, he realised that time had already come. The sky was dark, the only light in the room coming from the fire, and the slight golden tint to Merlin’s body.

Body.

He couldn’t use that word, swallowed down bile as he forced himself to look back at her chest, to where it rose and fell with every breath.

Dead people didn’t breathe, he told himself, before hurrying back to her side.

**

Merlin hadn't actually known that she could survive Excalibur’s cut. When she woke, it was to a wave of confusion, her Magic reserves drained. In fact, she felt exhausted. Every muscle seemed to ache, while her head spun as she dared to open her eyes. It was only when she looked at the window that she recalled what happened, one of her hands flying to her stomach.

She was dressed in white, without a single drop of blood. Even through the fabric, she could feel the slight ridge of a scar, traced it slowly while wondering how long she’d been asleep for.

A snuffling sound drew her attention to her other side, where two hands were clasped over her wrist. Gwaine’s head was resting on the edge of the bed, fast asleep, a frown on his face as he clutched at her arm like it was the only thing keeping him tethered. Unlike her, he was not clean. His breeches were stained with dirt and blood, his hair a mess and fingers stained a light red, like he’d tried to clean the blood but had been unable to do so.

Her blood.

‘Gwaine?’ She croaked, then quickly decided she needed water. She reached for the jug at the side of the bed, but it meant twisting her body, and her stomach wasn’t ready for that. Pain flared up, the jug almost slipping from her grip as she gasped.

Gwaine was upright in a flash, catching the jug before it could fall.

‘Merlin.’ The way he whispered her name worried the Witch. She tried to speak, but found her throat dry, hesitantly reached for the water.

Gwaine guided it to her lips, let her hungrily gulp the water down. Most of it was swallowed, but in her hurry to finish it, some trickled down her chin, staining the front of the otherwise clean chemise.

She didn’t care.

The jug was abandoned, Merlin wiping her mouth before looking back to Gwaine, who was still just staring.

‘You died.’ She wanted to argue, to point out that she couldn’t have done, but Gwaine wouldn’t lie. No, he was being completely honest, and that made it so much worse.

‘Gwaine…’

She couldn’t do anything but reach out for him, jolting in surprise when he lunged. They both fell back to the bed, Gwaine’s weight pinning her down as his arms wrapped around her. His nose tucked into the side of her neck, cheeks damp as he let out a shuddering breath.

‘I’m here.’ She murmured, let her hands rest on his shoulder blades as he clutched at her.

‘You died.’ This time, the words were sobbed out, his body shaking under her touch.

It was like they weren’t close enough, his hand sneaking out to press over her heart, like he couldn’t bear to be away from the beating. His eyes were wild, wet and shocked and hurt and everything that Merlin hated, let her hand rest over his on her chest.

‘I’m alive.’ She promised, but she could tell it wasn’t enough.

Unwittingly, her mind flicked back to the night that she ran. The moment she’d looked to the Knights, to the men that she loved with everything she had, and left them. The fear, the guilt, the knowledge that they might get hurt, or worse…

She’d died, and Gwaine had lost her.

She reached for the shirt he was wearing, a scrappy piece of cloth that easily ripped under her touch, shed it out of the way and guided him back to her. Pressed together, able to hear his heartbeat against her own, and Gwaine let out the breath he’d been holding.

‘I can’t…’ He choked out, before his head dropped back to her shoulder. His hands were at her hips, then skirting up her arms, back down to her thighs like he couldn’t quite believe she was alive.

Merlin reached for his hair, greasy and slick with sweat, tugged until she could meet his eye.

‘I’m alive.’ She repeated, firmer, before kissing him.

She could taste blood, and the knowledge that it was hers made it so much harder to deal with. Gwaine’s lips were pushing back at hers, demanding and rough, teeth grazing her lips as an arm wrapped under her back and closed her in.

It wasn’t enough. She was alive, and Gwaine was here, but it wasn’t enough. Merlin let her lips fall apart, gasped as Gwaine’s tongue brushed against hers. A hand moved to her thigh, gripping it like a lifeline. She could understand, clutched at his shoulders as she hooked her thigh around his waist, pressing them closer.

‘Gwaine.’ She panted out as his lips moved to her jaw, to her neck, while she arched up against him.

What if the sword hadn't gone through her?

She tried to reach for him, to drag him back up to her, but Gwaine just growled in response. Merlin let her Magic lash out, wrapping around the Knight tightly and making his head jerk back up to her.

This time, it was her turn to control the kiss. Her turn to let her hands wander, found them unbuckling the belt and yanking at the laces of his breeches until she could shove them down. Gwaine sat up briefly to kick them off, before returning back to her like he’d never left.

‘I need…’ He started, then paused, before kissing her again. Clearly, neither of them knew what they actually needed, just that they had to be close. Pressed together, where they could feel each other’s warmth, the reassuring beat of the heart.

Merlin wasn’t surprised when the front of her chemise was ripped, arched her back to allow him to shove the tattered fabric down to her waist.

His bare chest pressed to hers, the light dusting of hair tickling over her skin as they pressed together. It was a mad rush to curl against each other, to cling at each other like it was the only thing they could possibly think of doing.

His breath was hot against her cheeks, but there was still the dampness of the tears that fell, the way his body would tense if they parted too far. Merlin let her fingers curl into the hairs at the nape of his neck, her other hand resting at the small of his back as she tried to push them closer together.

‘Gwaine, more.’ More of this, more of whatever made them closer. Gwaine nipped at her lip, before kissing her again, while his body parted from hers momentarily. She whined in frustration, tried to drag him back down, missing the feel of his hands against her skin.

When he pressed back down, she realised he’d parted to get rid of his last item of clothing. The thought didn’t scare her, if anything, it was pleasing. She let him settle back against her body, wrapped herself up in his scent, mouthing at his neck as she rocked up against him.

‘Gods, Merlin.’

It had never been about arousal. She just needed him close to her, wanted to feel him pressed against every inch of her body. It didn’t stop her heart skipping when she felt the heat against her thigh, realised that somewhere along the line, she’d started seeking out friction from the Knight on top of her.

She shoved him back sharply, noted his sudden flash of terror that they’d gone too far. It didn’t take her long to kick off her own smallclothes, before reaching up for his hand and dragging him back down onto the bed.

‘Merls, can I…’ He hesitated, lips quivering but his eyes genuine, despite the tears that still pricked them.

‘I need you.’ She answered, honest right to her core, and it was enough for Gwaine.

The skirts of the chemise were bunched up to her waist, Gwaine’s weight settling between her thighs while she kissed him like she needed it to survive.

No, not to survive. To live.

Where Gwaine hesitated, Merlin did not. She let her fingers trace down his stomach, marvelling at the definition of his body, before reaching the hot heat of his manhood. She wasn’t quite sure about this part, although she knew the idea, guiding him towards her before snaking her hand back out to reach for him.

‘Merlin.’ He paused, before she nodded shyly, and that was all the invitation he needed.

It was a slight ache, Merlin clutching at his shoulders whilst biting down on her lip. Not painful, just uncomfortable, like she was being stretched open. Well, she supposed she was, felt Gwaine finally push in flush against her.

Finally, they were close enough. Gwaine’s hands trailed down her thighs leisurely, pausing every so often to kiss her cheeks and lips, filling her need for affection. They stayed like that for a while, seconds, maybe minutes, but it felt like hours to her. Just the two of them, with Gwaine’s heart thrumming under her touch, her Magic binding tighter around the Knight.

When the threat of disappearing diminished, it left the two of them still together, Gwaine inside of her. Merlin experimentally rolled her hips up, smiling when she heard the moan the Knight tried to bite off.

Like before, it was a rush to clutch at each other. But this wasn’t out of panic, this was out of desire. While Gwaine worked on slowly setting a rhythm, Merlin let her hands explore. Endless muscle, arms that bulged as he propped himself up on his elbow. One of his hands snatched up both of hers, pinning them just above her head, before he lowered himself down to kiss her.

‘Around my waist.’ He whispered against her lips, and she obeyed, hooking her leg up and whimpering at the feeling. Gwaine’s smirk was sinful, but he began thrusting quicker, stretching her out steadily while Merlin chased his lips.

‘Please…’ She wasn’t sure what she was asking for, but Gwaine responded regardless. The hand that wasn’t pinning her wrists moved down to her arse, gripping and lifting her hips slightly, before he began to speed up.

The sound was obscene, skin slapping together as she moaned, wriggling in his grip as she sought out the release she needed.

Her Magic decided that now was the time to take Morgana’s advice, snaking down to where she needed friction the most, and Merlin was done. Her body trembled as her mouth opened, toes curling while Gwaine swallowed down the sound that she was sure would have woken the Castle.

Gwaine swore, dropped his forehead to her shoulder as he chased his own high, a flood of warmth inside her while his hips jerked through the tremors.

Merlin was more than happy when his weight dropped back down to her, snuggling up closer to the man.

‘Definitely alive.’ He agreed, kissing her cheek gently before his hand dropped to her chest.

To the scar which she hadn't even had the chance to see, the white-ridged skin standing out in the firelight.

‘I…’ Whatever she was going to say was cut off by the door being thrown open, Merlin yelping and reaching for something to cover herself, while Gwaine just glanced over.

Of course, there was only one person, besides her, who opened doors without knocking.


	26. Explanations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flufffff

Arthur looked between them, while Gwaine slowly sat up, ready to defend Merlin if needed. Instead of saying anything, the King walked into the room, the other Knights in quick procession. None looked surprised to see Gwaine naked, although he did reach for his breeches.

‘I suppose it’s pointless to ask how you’re feeling.’ Gwaine had never appreciated the Princess more than now, with his teasing tone aimed at Merlin. She blushed, sitting up but letting the sheet fall to her hips.

Not only did it give them a very delicious view of her bare chest, but the scar that Gwaine hated.

‘Is everyone okay?’ She questioned, briefly seeking out his hand and squeezing it. Whether it was to comfort her, or him, he didn’t know.

‘Three Knights died in the attack. Another four were injured, Sir Callum included.’ Merlin’s frown returned, the Witch kicking back the sheets and slipping from the bed. A flash of gold was all it took to clean her, sweat disappearing while her hair smoothed out.

‘I could do with that spell.’ Gwaine grumbled, Merlin’s quick smirk proof that she was amused. In the next moment, a warmth spread over his body, before it vanished.

‘Thanks.’ He didn’t want to stray far from her side, not after all that had happened. Still, he watched as she walked across to the wardrobe, uncaring that six sets of eyes watched as she pulled on some breeches and a tunic.

‘Morgause?’

‘Did Gwaine not tell you?’ Arthur asked, while the Knight felt a surge of guilt rise up.

‘We were busy.’ Merlin pointed out, tying her hair up with a neckerchief before her gaze flicked to the mirror. Right, Gwaine had left multiple marks on her skin, and they would clearly be seen if she walked out like that.

‘Morgause is dead, burned.’ Lancelot told their Witch, who nodded while her fingers traced over the marks on her neck. They vanished from sight, before she looked back at him and smiled.

‘Do you need to come with me?’ Need. Sometimes, her empathy would still shock him. She knew that he’d needed her to be close, that he had been close to breaking, and she was still willing to give him everything she could.

In truth, he was thinking back to how it had felt to be wrapped up with her, to be inside her, like nothing could tear them apart.

‘You go, I’ll annoy the Princess.’ He joked, but it was true. He needed to talk to Arthur, to promise him that he hadn’t actually intended on sleeping with Merlin. It just… happened. She’d deserved the world, and he’d hurried through it because he’d been terrified that she might slip out from underneath him.

**

‘Stay still.’ She scolded, Sir Callum grunting but obeying her order as she focused on healing the wound at his side.

‘You shouldn’t be wasting your Magic, my Lady.’ His objection had also been voiced by Leon and Morgana, but the Witch had pointed out that she hardly needed it for anything else. After all, she’d just survived a sword through her chest.

She wanted to get back to Gwaine. She knew he’d be panicking about how they’d tumbled together, about how they’d rushed through sex in a desperate hurry to feel connected.

It had been perfect. There was no fear, no worries in her head as she embraced him.

‘I’ll rest after.’ She promised, glancing back to where Lancelot and Percival were watching her.

She finished the spell, admiring the healing wound before applying a quick poultice.

‘It should be fully healed within a week.’ He thanked her quietly, prodding at the bandages like the other three Knights were.

Slowly, she raised up from the makeshift cot, grimaced when the phantom pain in her chest flared up. Apparently, the wound would still hurt despite the fact that it was nothing more than a scar.

‘Come on, let’s get you back to Gwaine.’ Lancelot wrapped an arm around her waist, and she could do nothing but allow herself to be guided back towards the King’s Chambers.

**

Arthur’s hand was on her stomach, thumb brushing over the scar every so often, while the Knights continued to talk. She was mostly dozing, slumped over the King’s lap and settling back into the soft seat while the noise around her blurred.

Gwaine must have explained what had happened, because Arthur had murmured his approval in her ear.

None of them seemed angry at what had happened. If anything, they were supporting Gwaine. The Knight still looked on edge, his eyes darting to her every so often, but not to her face. To her chest, where he’d wait for it to rise and fall, before looking back to his friends.

‘Did it hurt?’ Elyan’s words were rushed out, bluntly, like he’d been wanting to ask for a while. Merlin didn’t miss the way both Gwaine and Arthur tensed up, but she was more than happy to discuss this with them.

‘A little. It was more the shock, I didn’t actually realise what was happening. Then I woke, and…’ She paused, trying to think of what emotion had come first, ‘I didn’t know I’d survive. But I suppose it should have been obvious.’ It was why she’d whispered that last word to Gwaine. If she’d known that she would wake up, she’d never have burdened him with such a heavy truth.

‘Can we see the scar again?’ Percival’s curiosity was adorable, she thought, sitting up and pulling up her tunic. The scar was rather large, sitting just below her breasts, almost hitting the scar of the burn from Nimueh.

Arthur’s hand crept up her bare back, lifting the shirt slightly higher, before he paused.

‘I thought we’d lost you.’ He muttered, far too emotional in the moment. Merlin looked back at him, didn’t quite know how to respond, before deciding that she would repay their honesty with her own.

‘It felt like the moment I ran from you, in the… hunt.’ The word tasted foul against her lips, but she pushed onwards, determined to explain herself. ‘I thought I was leaving you behind, and that was far worse than anything that could have happened to me.’

Arthur’s hand dropped, before returning to her stomach, fingers spreading out over the skin.

‘It’s okay to take care of yourself, over us.’ She knew that, deep down, was true. But it was so hard to think of anything but them when there was danger.

‘I can’t die.’ She pointed out, and Arthur’s smile was so… sad.

‘It doesn’t mean you can’t get hurt.’ They weren’t talking about the sword, now. They were talking about the Hunt, about the Village, about everything she didn’t know how to say.

‘I’d grown so used to injuries that… I tried to treat it like one.’ Her stomach was twisting tighter and tighter, burning up into a knot as she treaded around the subject. Arthur’s gaze was considerate, knowing how difficult it must be for her to talk about such a thing, but he was willing to push the limits.

‘What happened?’ It was an open question. She could answer it in any way she chose to, but they were being so very patient with her, and so she decided to try and give them the closest truth she could.

‘It was stupid, really. I thought that you were all angry at me for what had happened with my Magic, and then he reached out to touch me, nothing… inappropriate. Just friendly, but my Magic sparked up in defence.’ She halted, trying not to think of the six sets of eyes on her.

‘I didn’t really know what was happening. I just thought that using my magic would result in you getting involved, and I didn’t want to cause any more trouble.’ She could remember the panic, the way her Magic had buried down rather than sparking to her defence.

Arthur’s lips settled against her cheek, before he pulled back, and she dared to look up.

‘Thank you for telling us.’ Thank you. Two words that the King rarely said, yet when he did, she knew he meant them.

She kissed him this time, just a gentle peck, before looking out at the other Knights.

Her Magic prickled under the skin, tempting her to do something, so she did just that. Letting herself relax back against Arthur, she let the warmth spread over the other five, trying to convey just how thankful she was to have them.

Just how lucky she was, to finally be complete.


	27. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all those reading, commenting and leaving kudos on this fic! Enjoy your final chapter

Merlin woke later than usual, probably because her bed was empty. She took a moment to wake fully, stretching out and looking to the indent on the other side of the mattress that indicated she had indeed fallen asleep with someone. Elyan was on early morning patrol, if she remembered rightly, which explained the lack of a human-shaped pillow.

She dressed quickly, opting for a simple tunic and breeches, before stepping out into the Castle. Her first stop was to the Knights on Guard at the Throne Room, who bowed their heads as she approached.

‘Good morning, your Highness.’ It was indeed a good morning, the sky was clear and Camelot was at peace.

‘Good morning, Aaron, Beck. Have you seen the King this morning?’ It wasn’t unusual for Arthur to vanish, partly because the Castle was so large, and partly because he was busier than usual with the upcoming celebrations.

‘No, milady. He might be down by the in the market.’ She thanked them both, before setting off towards Camelot’s streets.

It had been three months since Morgause’s attack on Camelot. Nine weeks since the King had formally announced his intentions of Courting her. Eight weeks since a noble pointed out that the King’s lover was also the lover of the closest Knights, which had been amusing to watch.

Four weeks since the King asked for her hand in marriage, so that Camelot would have a Queen.

One week until the crown would be placed upon her head, and Merlin couldn’t help but wonder how heavy it would be.

Strangely, apart from the noble, nobody had questioned why Merlin’s loyalties were not just to the King of Camelot. Nobody pointed out that she was open in her affections to the other five, in fact, she treated them in much the same manner.

‘Morning, my Lady.’ Sir Callum was running up the steps as she descended, pausing half-way to speak. He looked better than he had in months, the colour returning to his skin and the panic in his eyes no longer present.

Merlin had been the one to tell Arthur, no, to demand that he allow his Knights some respite. That they had seen such horrors, and she knew the number of them requesting draughts from Gaius was increasing. So, with Merlin’s powerful skills of persuasion (that included some kisses), Arthur had given each of his Knights time to visit their loved ones.

Sir Callum had only just returned from his trip, but he didn’t seem tired from the journey.

‘Sir Callum! How was your wife? The children?’ He looked slightly startled that she remembered, but Merlin had been a nosy person as manservant to the King, she was even worse now that she was Court Sorceress.

‘Maria’s fine, and the children are both well, thank you.’ If she recalled correctly, his youngest child, Elena, was wanting to come and work in the Castle. With a Queen coming to Camelot’s throne, there would be positions opening for such jobs, although Merlin did hate the idea of having anyone serve her.

Callum told her that Arthur was down by the Eastern side of the market, so with a quick thanks to him, she scurried off after her wayward King.

In a week’s time, Camelot would be feasting in her honour. It was a rather strange thought, especially considering she still felt like the girl that had first arrived in Camelot, the one with a sharp mouth and far too much hope for this world.

People were already bowing to her as she moved through Camelot, not that she let them do that for long. Most were familiar faces that she could stop and chat to, others were not as familiar, but she made a note to remember them.

‘Mm, what’s a lovely Lady like you doing walking these streets?’ The familiar voice was accompanied by hands that wrapped around her waist from behind, lips pressing to the side of her neck before she was squeezed.

‘What’s a scrappy man like you doing running around like that?’ She shot back, turning to face Gwaine as he placed a hand over his heart.

‘My Lady, you do offend me so.’ He teased, but was quite happy to receive the kiss she placed to the corner of his mouth.

‘I was looking for the King, but he seems to be able to vanish.’ She grumbled out the last bit, glancing over the people that continued to swarm around them.

‘Perhaps a little… extra height?’ Gwaine winked, and she grinned, instantly glad that she’d chosen to wear breeches this morning.

‘Why, Sir Knight, you read my mind.’

**

Arthur picked up the purple fabric again, rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger.

‘It’s very… purple.’ Morgana sighed, while Gwen just sympathetically rubbed his shoulder.

‘Perhaps your Majesty would like the green?’ The lady offered out another colour to add to his seven choices, and Arthur quickly decided that trying to find a wedding gift for his to-be wife was quite frankly the most difficult thing he’d ever done.

‘Any ideas?’ He turned to his Knights, noted that Gwaine was absent, as usual. He had a habit of appearing randomly over Camelot, occasionally getting into trouble. More often than not, Merlin would usually be involved as well.

‘Perhaps the blue, like Merlin’s butterflies?’ Leon’s suggestion was a brilliant one, and he was glad that his first Knight was paying attention.

‘I think the purple. Merlin’s favourite tunic is purple.’ Elyan’s contribution was also a good point, Arthur taking a moment to consider between the two. Lancelot was already being distracted by the yellow, so he clearly had no opinion on either purple or blue.

‘Percival?’ The deciding vote, the Knight leaning forward to look between the two fabrics.

‘I think the green.’ Arthur groaned, ignoring the fact that his sister and best friend were still sniggering.

‘Arthur,’ Lancelot called, before procuring up a piece of fabric, ‘I think I’ve found the solution.’

It was bold. Very bold, but also…

‘Perfect.’ Arthur agreed, snatching the fabric from his fingers and turning back to the seamstress.

‘A good choice, Sire.’ The woman smiled, then quickly stashed the fabric away, nodding off to where the people on the street were gathering.

A crash sounded, followed by a loud squawking as chickens broke free from a pen. People began to laugh, flocking to the sight, which could only mean one thing.

Merlin was laughing, covered in white feathers as Gwaine tried to catch a particularly unruly cockerel, chasing it around the street with the Witch egging him on. The crowd looked mostly amused, parting to let Arthur come to the front.

‘Can’t you use your voodoo?’ Gwaine cried, landing in the dirt yet again as the chicken escaped his grasp. Merlin was laughing, one hand clutching at her stomach while the other wiped tears from her eyes.

‘You were the one that dropped me!’ She managed to get out, before the offending chicken came back out from its hiding spot, hopping up onto Gwaine’s back and settling there.

‘I hate you.’ Gwaine muttered, only for Merlin to look up and realise he was there.

The smile never failed to have his heart skip, the way her eyes sparkled when she looked at him.

‘Arthur!’ He couldn’t even bring it in him to tell her off for causing such a ruckus, watched as she stepped over Gwaine to reach him.

Why did he always feel so nervous, when she looked at him like that? When she took his hand and started chatting away like they had all the time in the world, like just hearing her voice wasn’t enough to captivate the entire Kingdom?

‘And so Gwaine dropped me, which is why there are chickens loose in Camelot.’ Most of the story had been a blur, of Merlin getting a piggyback ride through Camelot and Gwaine’s annoying-self causing chaos, but Arthur was distracted by the feathers that still covered her.

‘I think we should return to the Castle, save more disasters.’ He drawled, letting their joined hands fall between them while looking to the Knight that was still in the dirt.

‘Do you think you can…’ He didn’t have to finish the sentence, for Merlin’s eyes were flashing gold as the chickens appeared back in the coop, Gwaine being lifted up with a yelp that Arthur would remember later for blackmail.

‘I think I could do with a bath.’ Merlin agreed, before Gwaine had to waggle his eyebrows in the most ridiculous way.

‘Room for another?’

**

Merlin sighed, kicking her feet over the edge of the tub and looking across to where Arthur was seated at the table. Leon was giving him a brief rundown of the events of next week, while Lancelot and Elyan occupied themselves with a game of chess. Percival was content to sit in the corner reading a book, which just left Gwaine, who was drying his hair by the fire.

‘Usually, we would go on a Hunt before the feast, to catch something for the table.’ Merlin briefly registered the flicker of her heartbeat, the way old habits tried to convince her muscles to tense.

But, in the bubbly water surrounded by the Knights, the word no longer held as much power as it once had.

‘Perhaps a deer.’ Arthur concluded, although his eyes had darted in her direction to check that she was okay with the words spoken.

Merlin opted for flicking a bubble in his direction, before slipping further under the surface.

If this was what it was like to be the Queen of Camelot, then Merlin could get behind such an idea.

She couldn’t stay in here for long, sadly. She had quite a few things to do today, including looking through the taxes for the lower villages. After all, if she was to be Queen, she would need to learn to look after a Kingdom.

**

‘I would be honoured.’ Gaius stated, although she could see the tears that flicked in his eyes as Merlin wrapped him up in a hug. He embraced her back just as tightly, before stepping back, clearing his throat.

‘Now off with you, I’ve got my rounds to do.’ She hadn’t really had to think about who she wanted by her side when she was married. Gaius was, to all extents and purposes, her Father. The man who had raised her, the same man who was hiding his fond smile as she reached for her satchel.

‘I thought I might accompany you?’ It was just like the days before Merlin had become Court Sorceress, she thought, watching as her Uncle’s eyebrow raised slowly.

‘I suppose you still need to learn.’ He remarked, while she beamed up at him.

Gaius would be there, as would her Mother. Merlin had written to her just last week with the latest update, and she couldn’t wait to see her Mum again. It had been too long, almost two months, and she missed her.

Arthur’s face had been a right sight, the moment the letter arrived at the Castle addressed to him, from Merlin’s Mum. He’d not told her what had been in the letter, but she could imagine it was the reason behind his particularly gentleman-like approach to his actions later that night.

She hopped from the bench, following Gaius out of the Physician’s home just like she always used to.

**

‘It might be nice to have music.’ Merlin conceded, thinking back to the argument Arthur had made earlier for bringing entertainers to her coronation. Merlin didn’t really see the point, not until she thought about how it would give the chance for those who usually would not have the chance to perform an audience, perhaps future opportunities. It was the reason Arthur had entrusted her with the lower sections of society, because she had a sharp mind when it came to thinking of ways for all to benefit.

‘Do… uh, do we have to discuss this now?’ His voice raised rather dramatically at the end, Merlin pausing in her hip-swivel to look down at where her hand was resting on his bare chest.

‘I thought you wanted me to be more involved.’ Arthur bit off another moan as she rocked her hips forward, watched as his hands fisted into the sheets at either side of his hips while she worked back into a rhythm.

‘Not, oh Gods, not now!’ Merlin settled for smirking, thinking back to what kind of music she might like.

‘We could speak to the Druids? It would do the Kingdom well to be more integrated.’ Morgana had pointed that out this morning, and Merlin had to agree with her. Magic was a vital part of Camelot now, with people travelling from all over Albion just because of the tales of the gifts here in the Kingdom.

Arthur grunted, hips bucking up into her so sharply that she would have toppled, was her hand not steadying her form.

‘Perhaps a choir?’ He finally realised she was teasing, eyes widening and the look of arousal quickly turning to hunger.

Merlin yelped as they were flipped over, her back hitting the sheets as Arthur settled between her thighs, pushing back into her rather greedily.

A few minutes later, filled with Merlin egging the King on and then sincerely regretting it when the entire bed started to rock, Arthur rolled off of her and flopped to the side.

‘Wow.’ She breathed out, looking over at the King, admiring how pleased he looked in that moment.

Smug bastard.

‘You can have all the choirs you want, love.’

**

‘I’m trying to eat my dessert!’ Merlin pointed out, while the six of them discussed the Hunt that they had just been on. She took another spoonful of the sugared delight, licking her lips and then promptly regretting the choice of strawberries when Arthur went into detail with the killing shot.

Honestly, sometimes there was far too much masculinity in one room.

Realising she sounded slightly like Morgana, the Witch sighed, taking another bite of the pudding.

She looked up to find Percival studying her, before he blushed when she caught him.

Percival never had been one to brag over the Hunts, she mused, offering out a spoonful of her food. He accepted happily, chewing down and then looking surprised when he tasted just how delicious it was.

With the others sufficiently distracted with the discussions on the boar, Merlin took the opportunity to beckon him closer, grinning when Percival dropped down to his knees in front of her chair. She kissed him hungrily, liking the way his lips tasted if strawberries as she did so.

His hands ran up her thighs, and for once, Merlin was quite content to fall back and let the Knight do the hard work. Her skirts were bunched up, his head disappearing under. Moments later, lips sealed over her inner thigh, sucking lightly at the skin while she let her head drop back.

Realising conversation had most definitely stopped, Merlin glanced over to where the others were watching.

‘You were the ones interrupting my dessert.’ She pointed out, before her ability to talk was quickly reduced down to nothing by the talented mouth working her core.

**

She looked… stunning.

Lancelot had picked a brilliant colour, Arthur decided, watching as Merlin’s eyes darted around the room in terror. She looked pale, nervous as she searched and scanned until…

The moment they made eye contact, she smiled. It started shyly, before growing as she moved closer, her arm still looped through Gaius’s.

The Knights on the front row looked just as proud as he felt in that moment, as his wife took the final steps alone. Geoffrey was ready to both wed them and then coronate her, but Arthur hardly heard the words that were said.

All he could see was Merlin’s bright eyes, the way her lips quirked at the corner when the Pendragon seal was slid onto her finger, the proof that she was now officially his wife.

‘Do you swear your allegiance to the Kingdom of Camelot, to protect her…’ Merlin knelt on the steps just as he had done, but her gaze did not leave him. There was no hesitation with her answer, not even when the Crown of Camelot was placed upon her head.

‘Arise, Lady Merlin, Queen of Camelot.’ His wife, his Witch, rose up gracefully, rather unlike her usual self, before taking his hand and turning back to the room.

‘Long live the Queen!’ Arthur briefly glanced at Leon, whose chant spread across the room as Merlin’s head tilted to him.

‘Long live the Queen.’ Arthur murmured, before the two of them descended from the throne of Camelot.

One in red, the colour of Camelot.

The other in gold, the liquid-molten of Magic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not to spoil this ending, but a very lovely comment suggested continuing this fic in the future. Would you guys want to read that continuation?


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